


Florilegium

by Schmuzz



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fake AH Crew, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 23,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4839236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schmuzz/pseuds/Schmuzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ever growing collection of the myan oneshots I've posted on my tumblr, placed here for your reading pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nerd Michael and Punk Ryan

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going from oldest to newest, this is one of the first myan fics I ever wrote (in a skype chat, no less). It's a high school au set in the 1990s, wherein Michael is a totally uncool nerd and Ryan is a leather jacket wearing touch punk kid and yet they end up going on a date, anyway. Oh, and Geoff is there, too.

Michael Jones was someone upperclassmen like Ryan and Geoff would not-so-affectionately dub ‘the hugest fucking nerd to ever exist’. If you wanted a list of reasons, you clearly hadn’t seen the sophomore yet. It was 1996 and you would think that the memo that suspenders were never, ever okay would have reached around at this point, but nope, Michael was assuredly seen with those around the halls at school. They were red and tan or black or green and sometime he even put pins on them. In 1996 most people didn’t get the concept of doing things ironically, and even if they had, Michael probably would’ve missed the boat on that, too.

Even if he wore normal jeans – that were too new and never had grass stains or tears in them like they should have – it was always paired with a stupid shirt, with Mario or Link or some other cartoonish video game character Ryan was surprised he knew the name of on sight. There were the shirts with the Superman logo or the Batman logo – never Marvel, as Geoff pointed out totally disinterestedly, who read comics but never flaunted it to the extent that Michael did, since when would comic books ever amount to anything, anyway? Personally, Ryan was waiting for the day the kid showed up with a bow tie – it would, as Geoff stated, perfectly frame the disaster that was his face, what with the slightly frizzy brown curls, the delicate wire-frame glasses, and his braces. Braces. At sixteen.

It all sounded mean, but judging each other was all a part of the grand high school experience, and anyway, Ryan couldn’t find himself to feel bad about it, exactly. He and Geoff didn’t go around and shove kids like Michael Jones into trash cans and lockers; didn’t extort their lunch money or make them hate their lives. Ryan couldn’t help but notice that Michael, despite being riddled with an aura that begged the description ‘geeky’ or maybe ‘dorkish’, still looked happy, and was as loud and obnoxious with his similarly nerdy friends as some of the football players were. Geoff and Ryan were, of course, tall and broad and fans of wearing black and listening to any punk band from the Velvet Underground to Nirvana, so depending on how they looked at a fellow classmate, they could easily intimidate most of the student body without trying too hard, and without doing any unnecessarily cruel damage.

“Go ask Becky Rochester to give you her number,” Geoff mumbled, scanning the half full cafeteria. Ryan was supposed to be in Chemistry, and Geoff was supposed to be… well, who knew? The only class he sort of bothered with was an Honors English, which, according to him, he was doing very well in, shut the fuck up Ryan I can be smart, too, you know. Anyway.

“You asked me that last week,” Ryan said, scanning the crowd. The two of them would sit next to the back windows, towards the exit of the lunch line, that way they could see most of the cafeteria in one glance, as well as whoever was emerging from the line. Geoff always liked to get a front row seat when somebody spilled a tray of spaghetti all over themselves, the floor, and three cheerleaders.

“She’ll have to say yes eventually. Or – Miranda! She’s like going goth, right? I bet you could ask her out and she’d say yes.”

“She’s not goth she’s like… vegan. Or something.”

“Or something,” Geoff mumbled, watching said junior saunter to her table, her hair freshly dyed black but her clothes still alarmingly… pastel.

“Why don’t you ever pretend to ask someone out?”

“Because then you would realize the true extent of my Casanova-like qualities, and you’d realize I was letting you hook up with all these girls instead of taking them for myself, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship with your jealousy.”

“Uh-huh,” Ryan tapped his fingers on the table. “Bullshit aside, do you ask me to do this as an ass-backwards wingman, or just to see the look on their faces?”

Geoff smiled, biting his lips. “Well that would be telling, wouldn’t it?” he said conspiringly.

“Look, all I’m saying is that I’ve pretty much been dared to ask out all the girls in this school. Twice. We might have to find something else for you to torture me with-”

“How about a guy?” Geoff interrupted. He was watching Jack Patillo, who was actually on the football team. A trail of other students in jerseys followed him.

“Ask out a guy.” Ryan said flatly. He looked around. “You know we’re in Texas, right?”

“Eh, come on, I’ve seen you hammered over at Larry’s enough times to know that you’re not exactly shooting straight.” Ryan, for all his willpower, turned pink.

“That was like, one time.”

“More like three. Come on, I’m cool with it – you’d be cool with it or else you wouldn’t have gotten with that base player that one time –”

“Fine! Whatever! Just pick your fucking guy.”

“Alright,” Geoff nodded, pleased with himself. Ryan sank in his seat, arms crossed. “Next guy that walks by our table, deal?”

“Yeah, whatever.” They stared out into the crowd. It must have been half a minute, but Ryan was twitching in his seat. Obviously everyone would know that he was joking, and there weren’t too many people in school that could threaten him with his size, so he was probably going to be…

“Oh, shit,” Ryan said. Geoff was already cackling, cradling his head in his arms as Michael Jones – fucking Michael Jones – walked by them without looking back. “Can I get a do-over?”

It took Geoff approximately half an eternity to shut the fuck up. He might have been crying from laughing so hard, that asshole. “Nope,” he said, winded. “Sorry. Go over there and ask Michael for your hand in nerdy matrimony and report back whether he pissed himself or not.”

Ryan sighed. It was an especially long, exasperated sigh, and he stood up. “Okay,” he said. “Fine,” he also said, and left the safety of their secluded little lunch table to go track Michael down.

Luckily, Michael was as secluded as he was, on the entire opposite side of the cafeteria, his table shoved in between two columns and back to the front windows, where the parking lot could be seen and Ryan’s ever faithful ’83 Ford Mustang was parked, three rows back and nearly out of sight. He stared at it for a moment, willing it to give him strength. Or whatever. Michael’s hair was outlined by the sun, making the brown of his roots turn into a murky sort of copper. His head was bent over a book of intimidating size (typical). Ryan read enough, but he had a feeling his own collection had a lot less dragons in them.

He coughed, quietly. So quietly he was hoping Michael wouldn’t notice and he could just walk away.

But no, of course not. Michael looked up at him, brown eyes, thin glasses, pale face. At least he wasn’t wearing suspenders today. A pixelated sword and shield on a yellow backdrop mocked him and the black leather jacket he was wearing. He sighed, again, and sat down. “Hey,” he said.

Michael blinked at him, lips pressed tight together. “Uhh,” he began, “Hey yourself.” Ryan hadn’t heard Michael’s voice often enough to catalogue it, but he was surprised that it wasn’t nasally, or high pitched. In fact it sounded a bit scratchy, as though he was slightly sick. “What brings you to my humble domain?”

“A random table is your domain?” Michael shrugged and slammed his book shut. Ryan caught the title: A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin – yeah, sounded like something no one outside of Michael’s friends would ever be interested in. He pressed forward. “Anyway,” he said. 

“Did you come over here just to stop me from reading or…?” Michael raised an eyebrow at him and leaned forward, over the table. Up close, he wasn’t as scrawny as Ryan had been expecting. “Because if you did, that’s pretty fucking rude of you,”

Ryan raised his eyebrow. Slightly. Slightly. “Don’t kiss your Mother with that mouth, do you?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t talk about my mouth, or my Mother.” Michael smiled as he said that, actually fucking smiled – his cheekbones drew attention to the brush of freckles along his cheeks and nose, and Ryan realized for the first time he had dimples, too. Something in his stomach clenched; he was going to murder Geoff - fucking decimate him - hit him with his car. Then go in reverse and hit him again, just to be safe.

“My apologies, I just wanted to ask if you’re going to have time after all your math homework to hang out with me later,” He tried to sneer but couldn’t exactly pull it off. Michael’s face fell for a moment, but he looked surprised more than anything. Good.

The smile was back – he could even see the kid’s braces now and Christ he hated Geoff – “You’re fucking with me,” he said. Ryan tried to look innocent (though Michael pulled that off way better than him and all he had to do was just exist, what the fuck).

“Why would I want to fuck with you?” Michael rolled his eyes.

“Alright, fine. What’d you have in mind?”

Ryan swallowed. “What?”

“You want to take me out, then I hope you have a plan to woo me or something.”

“Dinner?” Ryan tried to keep his voice more sarcastic than curious.

“And a show?” Michael finished. “You got a car, right?”

“Why, did you plan on getting dick that fast?” Michael turned red but kept his gaze steady with Ryan. What the fuck. Who was the kid? Michael Jones was a tiny nerd who was louder than he should be, not a sarcastic asshole that made Ryan squirm in his seat. Fucking Geoff. “Yeah, I have a car,” he muttered. “Seen Scream yet?”

“Space Jam not good enough for you?”

They both stared at each other for a moment.

“Independence Day,” they both said.

“I’m 34th on Poe Street,” Michael added.

“I’ll swing by around seven,” Ryan said, getting up from the table. He didn’t smile, didn’t wave, but he did add a “See you then,” over his shoulder. Well, he would’ve at least. Except the second Ryan had turned around, Michael had buried his face in his arms as though he wanted to curl up and die. The sight made the words die in his mouth and his face go pink. The word adorable sprung to mind before he turned around sharply and mentally crushed such a dumb concept. He walked back to his table, his safe haven, and Geoff was eagerly watching him; Ryan knew how this was going to go down.

He fucking hated Geoff.


	2. Bless You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt: "I know this is strange to ask but could you imagine Michael sneezing when he orgasms? Like it just comes out as just a squeak and Ryan just loses it because 'dude what the hell was that?'" and a small sequel.

Ryan kissed down Michael’s throat, rocking into him. His hand stripped Michael’s cock as the other man’s fingers scratched down his back, grabbed at his shoulders, his ass. “Shit,” Michael was whining, nearly into his ear. “Fuckin’ – Ryan,”

“Feel good?”

“Fucking yes it feels fucking good,” Michael threw himself down, sinking into the mattress, Ryan felt his toes curl. “Shit, I – I’m –” Ryan leaned into him, biting at the juncture between Michael’s neck and shoulder – the other man was so tense he was probably going to come any second now –

There was a squeak.

Not the squeak of the bed springs or of teeth grinding; not even the sort of squeak Michael had, according to him, never made ever, not even that time when Ryan snuck up from behind the couch while he was watching Paranormal Activity 4; this was something else entirely. Ryan blinked and pulled back, stopped completely in confusion. Michael seemed fine; his face was flushed and there was sweat along his hairline, but that was self-explanatory.

“…What was that?” Ryan asked, trying not to breathe too hard, in case the sound came up again.

Michael sniffed. “What was what?”

“That noise. Did you… squeak? Just now?” Michael’s face went dark and he coughed into his fist.

“Uh, yeah I might’ve um,” He drew his hands away from where they were looped around Ryan’s neck, clasping them protectively over his chest. “Sneezed,” he muttered, so quietly Ryan had to strain himself to hear. 

“You just sneezed?”

“Yeah.”

“Right when you –”

“…Yeah.”

Ryan bit his lip and tried to reel in any stray laughter that might come up. The key point was tried, at any rate. “But you squeaked,” he said, unable to contain himself. 

“It’s a sneeze, asshole!” Michael thumped him hard on the arm. “I can’t fucking control how that sounds!”

“I know, but –” Ryan just laughed harder, sitting up and rolling away from Michael, grasping at his own stomach. “Sorry, sorry, I just – Does that even happen?”

”Yes it fucking happens! It just fucking happened right the fuck now! Oh my God,” Ryan was mildly aware of the bed dipping, and Michael adding a, “I’m taking a fucking shower, have fun with your hand, asshole,” before stomping off to the bathroom. Ryan was still too preoccupied trying not to laugh that he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He knew he would have to face Michael again and apologize, but for now, he kept on fighting himself over his own laughter, replaying Michael’s ‘squeak’ in his head.

***************

“F-fuck, Ryan, keep doing – yeah. Yeah, just like that,” Michael’s fist was tight in his hair, the other cupped around the back of his neck. His legs were pried open, shaking and taut; his cock was throbbing against Ryan’s lips – he’d been on the edge for ages and Ryan was just about ready to let him have it; and anyway his jaw was starting to ache. He licked a line up Michael’s dick and sucked the head back into his mouth. “Shit!” Michael gasped, holding his hair even harder, nails digging into Ryan’s skin. Ryan sucked Michael deeper into his mouth and –

There was that fucking squeak again. Ryan glanced up at Michael but the sneeze had already, obviously passed. He was looking up, anyways, dazedly glancing at the ceiling as his body shuttered and twitched in the aftermath of coming. Ryan slid his mouth away, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand and moving his jaw testingly, as if he were afraid he broke something.

Michael let out a whoosh of air, running his hand along his face. “So,” Ryan said carefully, voice huskier than normal, “Was that a sneeze?”

Michael stilled, then glared down at where Ryan was, leaning pleasantly against his inner thigh. “Just shut the fuck up, Ryan,”

“Aw, that’s no way to talk to someone who just blew you.” He kissed a patch of skin by his mouth and Michael tried and failed to keep in a shiver. “Correction: Blew you amazingly.”

“Oh my God,” Michael said, exasperated but too drained to move.

“Do you always sneeze when you come?”

“What do you think?”

“Okay, fair, but I’m curious,” Ryan was looking up at Michael, one of his hands running up and down his other thigh; it was so pleasant that Michael couldn’t keep up his glare – fucking Ryan Haywood. “I was looking into it –”

“You fucking researched people sneezing during sex.”

“Well it’s not like you would tell me anything. It’s completely normal. I mean, rare, but you’re not dying or anything,”

“I didn’t think I was,” Michael said stiffly.

“How often does it happen?”

“I don’t know, often enough. I’m not fucking marking it in a chart every time,”

“You don’t have to get so mad, I was just wondering. Is it always a squeak?”

“Yes,” Michael grit out, “It’s always a dumb sounding squeak.”

Ryan beamed up at him. “I think it’s cute.”

“It’s not cute.”

“It is.”

“No it’s not. You know what’d be cute?” Michael bent over, closer to Ryan, and wrapped his hands around Ryan’s throat. “Me wrapping my hands around your neck and lovingly squeezing the fucking life out of you if you don’t shut up.” Ryan stayed quiet for a few moments, and Michael was just starting to think the other would drop it.

“But it really is adorable.” Ryan said, still smiling widely.

“Ryan!” Michael yelled, throwing his hands back. “It’s not. It’s fucking embarrassing. You’re the only person I’ve ever met who thought it wasn’t weird as fuck.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “And how many people have heard you sneeze while orgasming?”

Michael wrinkled his nose. “Ew. Don’t say it like that. I don’t know, enough that I know it’s fucking weird and… stupid and. Whatever.”

“Okay, maybe, maybe you could say it’s weird but like,” Ryan let his fingers wander up Michael’s leg to grasp lightly at his hip. “Cute weird. I mean you sound like a baby animal and most people like baby animals.”

“Don’t bring baby animals into sex, Ryan, please.”

“No, really, there’s a whole section of viral videos dedicated to cute animals making cute sounds. So there’s clearly a market for cute people making cute sounds.”

Michael smirked and put his hand in Ryan’s hair. “I think we’d get flagged.”

“RedTube?”

“I think that’s the wrong demographic.”

“Well if there’s one thing I know about the internet, it’s that there’s always a demographic for something.” That actually made Michael laugh, and Ryan straightened up, hearing his knees pop. He sat next to Michael on the edge of the bed. “We’ll make you a star, babe.”

“Oh, you know, I always wanted to be internet famous,” Michael’s profile was soft, and Ryan felt relaxed, watching him. “But, you know, I think this is just something we can keep to ourselves. Premium membership perks and everything.”

“Yeah? That works too,” Ryan leaned over and kissed the corner of Michael’s mouth.

Michael pulled a face. “Ryan! Do you know where that thing’s been?”

“All too well,” Ryan said, kissing Michael again and again and again, until they were both laughing into the kisses.


	3. Three Sentences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are a compilation of various 'Give me a pairing and a prompt and I'll write a three sentence fic for it' fics! (Contains several pairings that aren't myan but they're obviously three sentences so it's easy to skip over).

_If you're still doing prompts, how about Myan, heist au?_

The truck wasn’t going to a bank but a renowned art museum - classic jewelry, probably priceless, according to the informants on the team.

Michael still couldn’t believe they pulled it off - there was enough gold and diamonds that they could go their own ways and each buy a private island - he had said as much to Ryan, who had taken a crown from Elizabethan times and was now wearing it like he was the reigning sovereign of Los Santos.

Ryan just slung an arm around Michael’s waist and said: “Yeah but, if the two of us pool our money, we could get a private island  _and_  live like kings, together.”

 

_Raychael, incubus au, fucking_

It was probably too late to say something, not that he wanted this to stop because god _damn_  Ray felt so fucking good already, letting Michael suck the head of his cock while he fingered his friend open. “And you’re - ah - sure this won’t kill me?”

Michael looked up at him, licking a stripe up his cock that had his toes curling into the sheets: “ Of  _course_  not, baby - you might black out when you come, though.”

 

_Chris/Blaine, Hogwarts!AU_

Everyone thought the sorting hat had mixed the two of them up: Blaine looked like too much of a bully to be in Hufflepuff, and Chris too assuming, too  _average_  for Slytherin. Because of that, they had a lot more friends across the houses, and even if they had seen the other student as a source of ire at the beginning of the year, by their second year they had become best friends.

And by their fifth year - well, Hogwarts didn’t have any shortage of abandoned rooms and halls for them to ‘practice magic’ together in.

 

_Myan Pirates AU_

Michael couldn’t see, the shackles around his hands and feet set too low and the porthole too high, but it sounded like trouble - figures he was going to die on a sinking ship before he even got sent to Australia to live out his life in exile.

In the distance, he heard the shouts of men, and a door to the prison block banged open; the room was flooded suddenly, not with the soldiers who captured him, but people of his own kind, and standing amoung them was one of the best.

Ryan Haywood scanned the floor, setting his eyes on Michael; he walked over, a set of keys in his grip: “If I told you once, I’ve told you a million times - the only ship you’re getting on is mine.”

 

_micheoff/raychael/myan, incubus, orgy_

“So here’s what we’re thinking,” Geoff said, watching Michael squirm as Ray started stroking him, "Since you can drain one person to death if you’re not careful, you might be better off with three people.“

Ryan kissed Michael’s neck, hand trailing along his side: "If that’s okay with you, of course,” he murmured into Michael’s ear.

Michael stared at Geoff, who was eyeing Michael like the incubus usually eyed his prey; Michael hummed as though he was thinking it over, but the husky turn to his voice gave him away: “I think I can swing that.”

 

_Raychael, "married" in Vegas AU_

He was just on the verge of throwing up - why did he always do this to himself? Michael fell headfirst into the pillows, hands above his head as he tried to pull the ring off his finger.

“And I swear to God, Ray,” he shouted, hearing his sober-for-life friend/boyfriend/husband (shit) snicker at his misery, “If you even fucking _think_  about that fucking Katy Perry bitch we are getting a fucking divorce.”

 

_myan, robot jones, sex_

“…So that just means that most of the dopamine that I receive can feed back into you - up to 90%, which should be enough for you to come; it’s all in the brain, anyway." 

Michael nodded, touching along the base of his skull where Ryan had put the electric impulse transmitter - before suddenly jolting, a wave of euphoria he had never felt before washing over him.

"Oh f-fuck,” he breathed out, watching Ryan palm at his own cock; “ Mm, yeah, that’s definitely working…”

 

_LunaJones, artist and model AU_

The new model, Michael he thought his name may have been, was pretty good; didn’t shift too much, and definitely wasn’t an eyesore, either.

His friends had left the classroom by the time Miles was finished packing away his charcoals - one of the sketches came out pretty well, and he stared at it for a moment.

“Nice job,” Miles turned around and saw the model, relaxing in the robe he had walked in with; the man smiled and said: “You want to get more references?”

 

_micheoff, incubus au, adultery_

Geoff wasn’t sure if soulmates actually existed, but if they did, he was pretty sure he was married to his.

And yet, there was something about this new guy, Michael… Looking at him, Geoff knew he wasn’t in love, that Michael wasn’t his ‘soul mate’ either - but that wasn’t enough to stop him.

 

_raychael, incubus au, love_

Michael had been terrified of starting something with Ray; the fear of waking up next to a corpse kept them apart. Ray didn’t know that, though; he just thought Michael hated him; he didn’t of course, quite the opposite in fact.

Too bad incubi couldn’t love anyone - not in a way that shows, anyway.

 

_myan, incubus au, death_

It always started out so great; his chest heaving, thighs burning as he rode the man beneath him. The stranger beautiful, really - broad shoulders and strong arms - he was even gorgeous when his eyes rolled back in his head and his hands slipped limply off of Michael’s hips. “Sorry, Ryan,” Michael said, shifting off of the man he had picked up that night - oh well, at least his last moments were fun.


	4. Suggestible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is an alternate universe where Michael is an incubus and Ryan is his human pet :) This is nsfw

‘Hello, Ryan,’ Michael says, putting his finger under the broader man’s chin. The reaction is immediate; Ryan’s blackened eyes gaze adoringly up at his king, totally enraptured.

'Hello, Michael,’ he says, leaning forward expectantly.

Michael pulls back. 'Uh-uh. What do you call me now?’

'Oh, I’m sorry. Hello Master,’ Michael smiles, feeling the usual sense of power curl inside him, making his cock twitch. He leans forward and kisses Ryan, open mouthed and sloppy.

Ryan’s already hard for him, and Michael reaches a hand down to stroke him through the thin material of his shorts. He knows they’ll be coming off soon anyway, that there’s not much point in having his slaves wear clothes, but there’s something to be said for letting the imagination wander.

Ryan whimpers into his mouth, so different from the man he had once been, and Michael pulls away grinning. 'Oh, little pet, you’re eager today, aren’t you?’ Michael says, squeezing Ryan’s leaking cock.

Ryan nods. 'Y-yes, Master. Every time I see you or smell you I - I can’t help myself. Oh…’ Michael continues smirking, watching Ryan flush and squirm.

'Well,’ Michael breathes, fingers smoothing along Ryan’s neck. 'If you can’t help yourself, why don’t you just cream your shorts right now like the helpless little whore you are?'

The reaction is immediate. Ryan throws his head back and screams out Michael’s title, his cock pulsing warm, sticky come into his threadbare shorts. 'Master, master - oh fffffuck, master.’ Ryan moans, uncontrollable and unrestrained. Michael finally pulls his hand away and still Ryan’s moaning and cursing under his breath.

Michael tsks. 'Oh, poor pet, you just can’t control yourself can you? Making a mess first thing in the morning.’ Ryan blushes all the way down his chest.

'I’m sorry, Master. It’s just -’ Michael holds his finger to Ryan’s mouth.

'Don’t make excuses. Just take off your shorts and give them to me.’ Ryan moves without thinking, like his darling king’s words make a direct line to his brain. He takes the stained blue shorts and passes them to Michael’s waiting grip.

Michael turns them inside out so that the wet patch Ryan’s come made is even more apparent. 'Here,’ Michael says. 'Don’t put these back on until you’ve gotten every last stain out. With your tongue.’

Ryan bites his lip and Michael can already tell Ryan’s getting hard all over again - being a demon does wonders for your recovery time, after all. 'Y-yes master,’ he says obediently. Michael watches Ryan lap at the fabric for a moment before waltzing down the hall. It was only nine in the morning, after all. He had to see how the rest of his domain was getting on.


	5. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for 'waking up together in the morning' myan fluff so here's one of those :)

Michael sighed. One of the windows was open, just an inch or so, and it was raining. He could hear the trickle from the gutter outside, and the wet, hollow plops on the window. It tapped like fingers inside his brain, but it was approaching white noise if he concentrated enough. Ryan was less persuaded, but the room was normally stuffy, so the small chill that had settled over them in the last hour was yet another comfort Michael didn’t want to part with. He rubbed his fingers together absent-mindedly as they rested on his pillow. Ryan was pressed against him, hand drooped over his waist and curling towards his stomach. The grip was just this side of tight - not uncomfortable, but enough to know that Ryan wasn’t close to sleeping any time soon.

Ryan’s calf was jammed between both his legs as well, his face smashed against Michael’s shoulder. If Ryan kept his distance, they could’ve probably closed the window ages ago. Realizing this, he said so, half mumbling his observation into the pillow. “I like holding you,” was Ryan’s response. His mouth was wet, and it moved against the bare skin of Michael’s shoulder. It wasn’t a kiss, it wasn’t attempting to be anything but quietly spoken words, but it made Michael’s face heat up regardless.

“You do?” Michael hoped Ryan would think he was just being quiet and mumbling, versus embarrassed enough for his voice to lose its strength.

“Love it,” Ryan muttered wetly once again. He seemed to shift even closer, as though he wanted to come out of Michael through the other side. His arm was tighter around his middle, which made it harder for him to then turn over in Ryan’s arms, not relaxing again until he was pressed against Ryan’s chest, his own arm thrown over Ryan as well, curling into the sheets on the other side of him.

A moment later he felt Ryan’s hand in his hair, fingers rubbing light circles into his scalp. Michael sighed again. “Ryan?"

"Hmm…?” He felt the vibration of the other man’s voice in his face, his chest, his stomach. He ran his hand down Ryan’s back, feeling the well-worn cotton of the shirt he wore to bed.

“I like it when you hold me, too,” he admitted. He felt Ryan’s lips press into his hair and Michael smiled, privately, into the other man’s chest. The rain had since faded into either nothing or background affiar, and not long after that omission, Michael had finally gone to sleep.


	6. Cards Against Humanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Ryan as college roommates playing a game of CAH. Pre-slash

“So, thought this only worked with more than two people?” Ryan said, sitting cross legged on Michael’s bed.

“It’s a card game, Ryan. We’ll make it work. Besides, no one else is lame enough to stay in the dorms for break.” Once Wednesday hit, campus became a ghost town. But it was only Thanksgiving, and Ryan being from Georgia and Michael from New Jersey, there wasn’t much point in getting a plane ticket out of Texas. At least they were roommates; being cooped up in a tiny bedroom with someone you got along with almost made the five days of isolation bearable.

“It’ll be like, a laughing thing. If you smile or chuckle or anything, I win.” Michael shuffled the black cards and handed over a few to Ryan before plucking out some white cards for himself. “Or we could play solitaire like fucking old people.”

“Well now I get to see if you’re secretly a sociopath,” Ryan glanced over at his cards and picked an innocuous one. “Blank: Good to the last drop.”

Michael bit the inside of his cheek and showed Ryan one of his cards. “A salty surprise.” Ryan looked at the card for a moment before shutting his eyes.

“Oh my God,” he murmured, his mouth twitching into a smile.

“Yeah, that counts as a win.” Michael snatched Ryan’s card out of his hand. “Next,”

“What did the US airdrop to the children of Afghanistan?”

Michael flipped a card over. “Bees?”

“Not the bees,” Ryan said mildly, his eyes shining but expression neutral. “I drink to forget –”

“A murder most foul.”

Ryan chuckled and handed Michael his card. “I wanted that one.”

“You want all the murder ones.”

“What gets better with age?”

“Robert Downey Jr.”

Ryan sighed in an exaggerated way. “Oh yeah, he’s a total dreamboat.” Michael laughed and kicked at his roommate’s feet.

“You’re a fuckin’ nerd.” That made Ryan laugh in response.

“You’re just jealous you can’t please me like he can.”

“I can’t – what the fuck, Ryan!” Michael tried to grab at the other man’s arm but his roommate just stood up, head pressed against the ceiling of the dorm.

“Yeah, sorry. The second he knows I exist we’re going to run away and elope. But maybe I’ll talk to him, get you a part in Iron Man – ow!” Michael tossed the still mostly full Cards Against Humanity box into Ryan’s hip, and a flurry of plastic coated cards scattered all over the pair of them, and the bed, and the floor. Michael leaned against the wall, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Pick them up, asshole,” he said, nudging Ryan’s calf with his foot.


	7. Thunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Michael trying to pass the time during a power outage

The weather channel said there was going to be a really bad thunderstorm around eleven that night; Ryan reaffirmed it, too. But neither of them really expected the power to go out.

“Shit,” Ryan said, trying to make out Michael’s form. He had been in the kitchen, probably getting a snack while they caught up on Game of Thrones – or rather, while Michael forced Ryan to catch up on Game of Thrones so he wouldn’t have to keep censoring himself all the goddamn time, Michael’s words, not his. “Are you okay?” Ryan called out, raising his voice. Without the television on, the sound of the storm outside seemed much more encompassing, as though the walls of their house did nothing to prevent the sounds of wind and rain and, on occasion, thunder. “Michael?”

There was a flash of lightening that burst through the windows and sliding glass door. For a split second the floor of their house was bathed in ghostly light – Michael was by the foot of the couch, looking down at Ryan.

“Christ!” Ryan yelled, jerking away from the sight. Over the weather, he heard Michael laugh quietly to himself. “What the hell is wrong with you? No, get away I don’t want any chips.”

“They’re Cheetos,” Michael said. A grumble of thunder rattled in their ears and the couch dipped under Michael’s weight. He slid over to Ryan’s spot, crushing him slightly as he leaned against his side.

“Get away,” Ryan mumbled, shoving at Michael’s shoulder. He wasn’t really pissed but felt that he ought to make a show out of it. If he didn’t, he felt it would only be a slow escalation of pranks from the other man, anyway.

“Come on, I could’ve been holding a knife or some shit, you’re fine,” Michael griped. He put a hand high on Ryan’s thigh. “Here, I know something we can do to pass the time.” Ryan knew that tone of voice. Even if Michael hadn’t let his voice drop slightly, the possessive squeeze on his leg would have tipped him off.

“You’re – you’re eating Cheetos right now.”

“So?”

“I don’t want my cock to be neon orange, thanks.”

“I mean, I can suck it off after.” Ryan stood up, pushing Michael further into the cushions in the process. “What?”

“We must have candles right?” Ryan murmured, carefully avoiding the coffee table and getting far, far away from Michael. “We need some candles.”


	8. Waking Up II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another story about Michael and Ryan waking up in bed together :)

There was something awesome about waking up on Saturday morning and knowing that nothing could force you out of bed before you wanted to: No work, no responsibilities, nothing that couldn’t wait until, say, one in the afternoon. Michael rolled over, eyes adjusting to the sun streaming in through the curtains and – yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to be getting up any time soon.

Because Ryan was here, fast asleep not a foot away from Michael. The blanket was pulled up to his shoulders, one of his hands curled into his chest. His hair flopped and spread against the pillow, looking almost golden in the yellow light. Michael shuffled closer and let a hand reach out and drape over Ryan’s waist.

The other man hummed at the contact, and a moment later opened his eyes. He looked at Michael for a few seconds before he leaned up, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Morning,” he murmured against his skin, sinking back onto the pillow and kicking his leg in between Michael’s, pushing into his space.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up,” Michael whispered.

“I was in and out of it for the last hour,” Ryan said with a shrug. Despite the two of them being fully awake, they didn’t raise their voices. The room was lit softly, the windows in their bedroom facing east, and everything felt just warm enough, just bright enough, just close enough, even. If one of them were to shift too suddenly or speak too loudly the spell would be broken, without a doubt.

“And you didn’t wake me up?”

“You’re cute when you sleep.” Michael’s cheeks darkened and he could only offer an embarrassed smile in return.

“Well,” Michael said, clearing his throat; Ryan was watching him, his eyes hazy and at half mast, but the emotion was there, silent and soft and it made Michael wish, more than anything, that they could stay right here, just like this forever. “You’re cute when you’re faking it.”


	9. The Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little spooky story with Michael and Ryan. Not super disturbing but it has a bit of a twist ending.

“It’s just… I feel like I’m going crazy,” Michael says, scrubbing a hand over his face. Ryan looks at him, silently nodding for him to continue, even though, with the way Michael’s sitting, his face bent over the table, he knows the younger man can’t see him.

Ryan doesn’t intervene, he knows that Michael’s been suffering lately, losing one of his closest friends. Ryan didn’t know Gavin well. Even though Michael had brought him over often enough, the pair of them had never been introduced properly. But still, from the little he had seen and heard, he knows that Michael and Gavin were inseparable. The night Ryan found out about the car accident, he hadn’t said anything to Michael. He couldn’t. Instead he just slipped into bed besides him while the younger man slept restlessly, his pillow case getting wet.

That had been months ago, and while Michael was moving and talking, going to work, it just wasn’t the same. Ryan would watch the videos he did religiously - it was what brought him to know and love Michael in the first place - but now they just showed a group of gamers filled with ersatz joy, a loss of energy in their little office. One series after another lacked Gavin as the videos caught up to the tragedy.

When Ryan had initially met Michael, he was loud and full of, well, life. Now it’s like that’s been taken away from him, and Ryan can only watch on helplessly. He tries to do something whenever possible, watching over Michael to make sure he doesn’t do anything he would regret. And while it isn’t necessarily orthodox, he has been spiking his bottles of scotch and whiskey with some minor drugs to help him sleep. It is for the greater good, he tells himself, even if he has to carry Michael from the couch he passed out on to his bed once in a while. 

Lately, however, Michael has been thinking something strange was going on.

“I know that… ghosts probably aren’t real,” Michael starts again. “But it’s like he’s fucking here, man.” Ryan purses his lips, watching Michael pick up a drink, then set it down again, fiddle with his phone and glance around the kitchen. “I’ll hear things in the walls. Something bigger than a rat, too. I know what those sound like. And sometimes I’ll wake up and stuff in the kitchen will be moved around. As if that asshole got hungry and wanted a snack.” Ryan holds back a snort and waits for Michael to continue. His boyfriend is half convinced that Gavin’s come back as a spirit, and normally Ryan would be inclined to disagree but, well, it’s sort of helping Michael, in a way. He never seems bothered by strange noises and the feeling that he’s being watched – actually, Ryan’s thankful. “Even in the fucking shower!” Ryan grins playfully at that. “It’s not like that. I mean it’s… It makes it easier, you know? It’s comforting.”

Ryan doesn’t argue with Michael – the most he can do is stay put, be with the man he loves so much.

Michael glances up for a second, his brown eyes meeting Ryan’s. It makes the older man suck in a breath, Michael’s eyes always get him, making him jump or sending his pulse racing. “I hear stuff in the attic, too,” Michael admits quietly. “Like footsteps. Which is weird – Gavin’s never been up there. Hell, after I moved in I never went up there.” Michael looks down again and twists in his seat, and Ryan can breathe again. “No, no, but that… That’s fucking disturbing.” Michael mumbles a few other phrases, slowly standing up from his seat and leaving the kitchen. Ryan follows him into the hallway, where Michael is staring up at the door to the attic.

“I don’t think it’s an animal,” Michael concludes lamely. “Animals don’t make that much noise. That heavy… like a fucking walking sound. Maybe it’s termites. That’d explain the hole in some of my walls that have started appearing. But even then…” Michael looks at the door to the attic, and Ryan so badly wants to say that everything is fine, that Michael just shouldn’t worry himself over nothing. There’s no ghosts, no infestations, everything is perfectly normal, it was just the two of them in the house; he was better off leaving the attic to Ryan.

He just keeps quiet, though, watching through the small pin hole as Michael – precious, trusting Michael – murmurs a “Talk to you later, Ray,” and ends the phone call.


	10. Sure Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love confessions (gone horribly right).

Michael had been in love before. He knew the symptoms: the nervous laughter, the mix of anxiety and anticipation, the way his chest constricted and stomach clenched – he wasn’t going to pretend that he was just feeling ‘off’, that he was imagining it – he spent way too many years doing that.

He just never expected that he would feel any of that when Ryan walked into the room.

Sure, they spent time together, not just inside work, either, but that could be said for a lot of people in the office. When Michael first started to avoid looking over at Ryan’s desk because the threat of the other meeting his gaze made his cheeks flush, he couldn’t help but wonder why it was Ryan in particular that made him feel like he was a stupid kid with a stupid infatuation.

It could have been his looks – a lot of their audience was quick to point out how they’d ‘go gay for Ryan Haywood’, and Michael could see that, sure; he was tall and broad, and his arms were pretty great, and his legs, and his hair always seemed so soft… And his voice, too. Deep like Jack’s but with a different inflection, the way it cracked and trailed lighter when they were walking together somewhere, chatting about whatever came to mind. The strangest mix of intelligence and innocence; whenever Ryan asked about how to play some game they were filming in, Michael’s tone could only go calm and encouraging.

Obviously there was a lot to like about Ryan. And yet somehow he was still single. It had been nearly three months since he first started to notice Ryan like that and if anything it was just getting harder to work with the other man, because instead of just thinking about the man’s hair or his eyes or his laugh he started to think about how it would be to have Ryan’s eyes fixed on him as they went somewhere together, or how he’d sound laughing while Michael kissed some sensitive part of his neck. It was getting fucking ridiculous to be honest, and he knew he had to do something – something that evidently didn’t involve being a wuss, either.

So one morning, Michael came up to Ryan’s desk clenching his hands in the pockets of his hoodie as he asked Ryan to lunch. Just the two of them, he added, he had news.

And Ryan said yes.

Because lunch together was a thing, and friends - or friendly co-workers, whatever - sharing 'news’ was definitely a thing, too. Michael chewed the inside of his cheek the entire way to the restaurant, and didn’t say anything until after there were already two plates of food between them. 

“So, uh,” Ryan started awkwardly, already noticing Michael’s quiet behavior. “What did you want to tell me?”

Michael’s face went hot. “We’re… we’re friends, right?”

“I’d like to think so, yeah. Why?” Ryan raised an eyebrow at him and stabbed distractedly around the food on his plate.

“I thought I should tell. You, I mean you deserve to know.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not exactly…”

“This isn’t like, something serious, is it? You aren’t sick, are you?” Michael shook his head and took a sip of water. It was so cold it hurt going down his throat.

“No it’s - it’s stupid. It’s been distracting me and I wanted to, uh, clear it up.” Michael put both elbows on the table and glanced up at Ryan. “I like you.” Ryan stilled. “As more than a friend. Or someone I work with.”

The other man blinked over at him, and Michael’s eyes started to water. He wasn’t in the practice of getting rejected, and even though he knew that would be the only outcome, he was really saying this so he could get over himself, it was still grating to be in the midst of it; not in the planning stages or the misted over reminiscences he could safely look back on, but here, in the moment, where he couldn’t think or comfort himself, but be on display for whatever would get lashed out upon him.

After a few seconds Ryan swallowed and spoke. “And that was distracting.”

“You’re distracting.” Michael mumbled automatically. He started to fiddle with the straw their waitress had brought, which he hasn’t used. “Your… face and your voice and your… rest of you. I didn’t mean to get invested in you, but I did.”

“Well, thank you, Michael, you’re not that bad yourself -” Michael shook his head.

“Don’t pretend you were waiting for me to tell you, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about y- this until I told you…”

“You aren’t the only one.”

“So you can just go ahead and let me down and hopefully we can still be friends.”

Ryan put his chin in his hand and stared down Michael, who was hunched over in his side of the booth. “And why would I do that?" 

Michael shivered, and glanced up at Ryan again. "W-well, you don’t have to, I guess. I just thought… you’re reasonable, we can work around this.”

“Should we?”

Michael blinked rapidly and took another drink. He should have ordered a beer. Or ten. “I like being your friend, Ryan,” he said. It was all he could think to say. He set the water glass down and fiddled with his hands, clenching them harshly together. 

Ryan reached over and put one of his hands over Michael’s. He softly said his name. “I like you too, you know. I wasn’t trying to be nice.”

“You… okay?” Ryan smiled at him. “Really? I mean, are you sure?”

“Of course I am. You’re funny.”

Michael frowned. “That’s not saying much.”

“You’re funny to me. And you think I’m funny. And we get along - you’re one of the first friends I made here, you know. I think some people thought I was intimidating or scary or something.”

“You aren’t. You’re just weird. You know, in a good way.”

“Thanks for clearing that up.” Ryan slid his hand away and leaned back in his seat, eyes gazing into Michael’s, not just in a way to make contact; it felt like Ryan was telling him something - a message that couldn’t be articulated but was felt instead. “So,”

“Mhm,”

“We’re dating now. Just to make sure.”

“Yeah,” Michael said dumbly. He gestured to where they were sitting. “This is the first one, right?”

“Well, considering that it only became a date halfway through, I don’t know if that would count.” Michael stared down at his plate. He could only feel the warmth of his cheeks and - oh. He felt Ryan’s foot nudge against his. He kicked back, lightly. 

“Dinner tonight?” he suggested, trying to stare at anything but the other man now.

“Sure thing. Anywhere in mind?” Michael picked up his glass again and took a sip without wincing, now prepared for the sensation.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something." 

"I’m sure you will.”


	11. Surgery Induced Adorableness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the video where a man wakes up from surgery and, not remembering his wife, proceeds to flirt with her and be super cute.

Ryan hovered by Michael’s hospital bed. It wasn’t a serious operation, thank God, but there was something about seeing a person you love in a pale, papery gown while their eyes dozily move around in their skulls. The doctors said the anesthesia would wear off in another hour or so, and he could give Michael some food while they got the paperwork together. 

Michael was slowly nibbling on a saltine while Ryan texted their friends, saying he was all right and he’d be home soon. ”Hey,” Michael croaked out, voice dry and hoarse. Ryan’s head turned to look over at him.

“What is it?”

Michael continued chewing, lips wrapped around the cracker as he glared at the other man for a minute before he said, “Did the doctors send you?” Ryan swallowed and he sucked on his teeth. Michael couldn’t have gotten amnesia from a surgery, right? He worked his mouth for a moment, trying to come up with an answer, but Michael continued on: “I didn’t realize hot nurses were a thing.”

“…Excuse me?”

Michael closed his eyes for a moment, and Ryan thought he had fallen back asleep. “I don’t wan’ be rude,” he mumbled, “but you’re hot.” He coughed a moment later, and acting instinctively Ryan picked up a glass of water, pressing the straw between Michael’s lips. 

“Thank you?” Ryan said, more than slightly confused. Michael downed most of the drink before trying to nudge it away with his head.

“What’s your name?“ 

“Ryan.”

“Ryan, be honest with me…” Michael leaned forward until his head was nearly against the other man’s shoulder. “Are you a model?”

“Um. I was. Sort of.”

“I fuckin’… knew it. You’re gorgeous.” Ryan nodded, feeling a blush creep up the back of his neck.

“Just keep eating your cracker.”

Michael nodded dumbly and leaned back in his hospital bed, slowly chewing on the saltine again. Ryan started to google the effects of anesthesia on people, intently reading a list of symptoms on WebMD. Michael stayed quiet, and after five minutes or so Ryan concluded that Michael was probably suffering ‘confusion’, not memory loss.

“Ryan,” Michael said.

“Mhm?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Yes, you.” Ryan glanced over at Michael, only to see that the man’s eyes had grown wide, his mouth partly open.

“We’re dating?”

“For two years, yes.”

“Holy shit!” Ryan couldn’t help but laugh as Michael became even more worked up. “That’s fuckin’ awesome.” Ryan leaned over and rubbed Michael’s shoulder gently. Michael seemed enraptured as he watched Ryan’s face. “Are we gonna get married? Don’t bullshit me, Ryan.”

“Maybe? I hope so.” Michael closed his eyes again and laid down in the hospital bed.

“Yes,” he hissed out, raising his arm slightly in a weak attempt at pumping his fist in the air. Ryan laughed again, looking over Michael until the other man had fallen back asleep.


	12. Couches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was day one of a 'Myan Advent Calendar' series I did last Christmas (all the stories in this series are smut, by the way). In this one, Michael and Ryan spend some quality time together at home.

The living room was dark, the movie dragging and cliché; Michael knew he should have just said he was wrong and the movie was honestly shit, but instead he continued to stare glassy-eyed at the screen. He had thrown a blanket over him and Ryan, and using the other man’s chest as a pillow was way too comfortable to bother moving.

He felt Ryan’s fingers creep down his arm and slide around his hip. His lips pressed into his hair. “Need to get up?” Michael muttered, half into Ryan’s shirt.

“Nah.” Ryan’s hand moved upwards, gently rubbing Michael’s stomach, his fingers trailing down over his ribs. More kisses in his hair.

“Feels nice,” Michael said, closing his eyes. He shifted, so he was laying on Ryan even more when he felt Ryan’s cock against his thigh, half hard and impossible to ignore, even if Ryan hadn’t acknowledged it yet, still just idly touching along Michael’s skin. There were gunshot noises, something big and fiery taking place on screen, but Michael didn’t care.

Slowly, he shifted so his stomach was against Ryan’s, their cocks pressed together. “Bored?” Michael asked. Ryan grinned and kissed his forehead.

“Aren’t you?”

Michael shrugged and started to sit up. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” the other man said, hand curling around Michael’s hip again.

“I know,” He inched down Ryan’s legs until he was straddling his thighs. Ryan was wearing a pair of soft pajama pants, elastic band stretched just enough that Michael could slip his cock out with no problem. “But I want to.”

“O-oh,” Michael smiled. Ryan’s pleased face reflected the colors from the television screen: Blue, red, orange, ghostly and muted along his skin. His teeth shined against the faint light as Michael’s hand lazily traveled up and down his cock. Already hard, the other man sighed when Michael ran his thumb around the slit.

It wasn’t teasing, exactly. He just didn’t feel like rushing, too enraptured in the airy noises Ryan would make, the refined gasps and half formed moans that he didn’t bother to keep in.

Michael let saliva pool on his tongue before licking a wet stripe along his palm. He closed his hand around Ryan’s cock, slowly pumping as he felt the other man’s hips twitch underneath him.

The colors from the film made Ryan’s face look foreign, his eyes too bright and mouth too dark, looking down made Michael feel like he was doing this to a stranger. But the body underneath him was warm and wide and the same one he had always known; the way Ryan said his name with an adoring curve on his lips like nothing else.

His other senses refused to be so easily fooled. Even in the darkness, Michael could see the familiar look of desperation leak into the corner of Ryan’s eyes.

He started to swipe his thumb over Ryan’s slit each time he stroked up, not doing anything else even as Ryan squirmed gently under his weight. He knew it wouldn’t matter, this would be enough to get the other man off – and not even a minute after he thought that Ryan was spilling over his hand and down his shaft as he breathed heavily. Watching come drip down his fingers and along heated skin made Michael suck his teeth as Ryan watched him, eyes half-lidded. 

Michael wiped his hand on Ryan’s pants and pulled them up again. Neither commented right away; Michael looked over at the television - the movie had played out and the last of the credits were rolling on screen. 

“Wanna take a nap?” Ryan said abruptly, Michael looked down at him.

“Here?”

“Mhm,”

He nodded absently, reaching for the remote and shutting the television off before sinking back down, his head resting on Ryan’s chest once again. As he pulled the blanket back over the two of them, he felt Ryan’s arm curving over his stomach, and lips pressed to his hair. He closed his eyes.


	13. Oral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was day two of a 'Myan Advent Calendar' series I did last Christmas (all the stories in this series are smut, by the way). In this one I tried an old staple of the fandom; Michael sucking Ryan's dick in this office.

“You’re leaving your hat on?” Michael smirked and tugged on the fabric around his head.

“I know, what’s happened to society? A man doesn’t even remove his hat before blowing another dude.” He wrapped his hands around Ryan’s thighs and pulled him closer; the other’s legs easily spreading open for him. “So, how long have you been hard?” Michael murmured disinterestedly, teasing his fingers along the bulge in his pants.

“Shit, uh, maybe an hour…?”

“And it didn’t go down?”

“…You were very distracting.” Michael glanced up at Ryan from under his eyeslashes and started to undo the other man’s belt.

“I have no idea what you mean.” Ryan glanced to the side, the office door still shut tight; he couldn’t hear anything but the sound of electronic equipment humming in the background. Usually a lunch break meant at least thirty minutes alone, but there was always the chance that someone would burst in because they had forgotten their wallet.

He heard the dull sound of Michael pulling down the zipper of his jeans and his focus snapped back to him. Ryan slumped further against the computer chair, planting his feet far on either side of Michael. “You must have it so rough,” Michael said, squeezing Ryan’s cock through his underwear. “Not being able to lean back like you usually do, nice and on display. If you did, everyone would see, wouldn’t they?” Ryan’s cock twitched against the warmth of Michael’s palm.

“What’s wrong with the way I sit?”

Michael raised an eyebrow up at the other man. Despite his words, Michael’s expression was still unassuming and closed off; his eyes were wide, mouth dark. The curls peeking out from under his hat, all pressed against his face made him look juvenile more than anything else. Even when his fingers pulled Ryan’s underwear down, gently scratching his hips as he exposed Ryan’s cock, flushed and wet at the tip, he managed to look like he was doing this for the first time. He ran his hand up and down Ryan’s shaft, still looking into the other man’s eyes.

“It’s very distracting,” Michael echoed, before leaning up and licking the head of his cock.

Ryan’s thighs tensed up, staring down at Michael. He had needed this; ever since Michael walked by over an hour ago and touched his thigh when no one else was paying attention, the implication and the look he gave enough to make Ryan shiver and hide as much as he could under his desk. But fantasizing about relief and having Michael in between his legs actively doing it was something totally different, and better, and – “Fuck,” his voice cracked, and all through it Michael just looked up at him with his wide, brown eyes, lips closed halfway up his cock as his tongue teased the underside of his shaft. Ryan gripped the arm of his chair with one hand, the other gently squeezing the back of Michael’s neck, fingers sliding through a few curls that his hat couldn’t hide.

“M-Michael,” The eye contact was making him dizzy, and the other man looked so fucking good, too, like his mouth was made to have something in it. “God, this is –” he let out a groan that rattled around in his throat just as Michael sank down even further on his cock. “Fuck, Michael, please.“

"Mm?” Michael hummed questioningly, face still neutral even as Ryan’s hips jolted into his mouth at the vibrations. A moment later he gave in, biting his lip as he came, trying his hardest to stay quiet. Michael’s eyes were still on him as he let Ryan come down his throat, and as he pulled back, licking up any leftover mess from Ryan’s cock. “I –”

Michael, mouth pursed in a half smile, eyes still gleaming, got back to his feet. Before going back to his desk, he leaned down by Ryan’s ear. “Like I said,” he murmured softly, grabbing Ryan’s hand and pressing it against his jeans, where Ryan could feel a very conspicuous bulge there, “You’re very distracting.”


	14. No Pain, Just Pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was day four of a 'Myan Advent Calendar' series I did last Christmas (all the stories in this series are smut, by the way). Day three was already apart of its own fic on here, called 'Roommates'. 
> 
> This is a psychoteeth story, and it isn't extremely violent but it does have mentions of death, kidnapping, and Stockholm Syndrome, which by proxy suggests that any sex in this story is dubious consent.

It had to have been a month. Maybe two. Ryan spent too much of his time sleeping to know. Sleeping and crying and avoiding the thing that stared at him through the slots in his door. The man who had trapped him here.

He made Ryan call him Michael.

Michael Jones, the true name of the infamous kidnapper and serial killer. The one who loved each and every victim – at least, until they didn’t love him back. That was what the profilers assumed: the four out of countless bodies found, all with sexual wounds and bite marks on their neck, killed quickly and buried in abandoned graveyards in homemade wooden caskets, their bodies strewn with petals and trinkets, sometimes poetry.

Michael treated Ryan as a scared animal at first, feeding him and leaving him alone in a cell-like room. The isolation had been maddening, not being able to talk, to see anything but the white walls and cold comfort of his mattress, a terrifyingly large mattress, fit for two.

One night he had woken up to Michael’s fingers trailing down his spine. A child’s nightmare with a human face. He felt the tears well in his eyes but said nothing, did nothing. He couldn’t if he wanted to live, he thought, though he had no proof how long this monster’s patience would run.

Soon it became nightly. The presence by his bedside. He had stopped sleeping entirely, and in his deliriousness he had whispered to the man to stop; he was insane for speaking up, he knew. But Michael had merely kissed his temple and shut the door. He didn’t return in the night again. 

The small allowance of freedom made Ryan think he could get his way. He tried to talk to Michael when he slid his food into the room; he asked for a harder pillow, for an extra blanket, for a Diet Coke. He got them all easily. He asked to see another room, and Michael led him through the small cottage the man had gutted and remodeled so that it looked like a shack from the outside, while inside it was the perfect stronghold.

He asked for someone to talk to, and Michael started talking. Ryan should have known that was a mistake – that he was still Michael’s toy. But he was mad from loneliness by then, and Michael was the salvation he needed to work with.

It was easy to pretend that Michael was just the strange roommate – or maybe he was the strange one, with his austere room he stayed in most of the time, and the same gray clothes he wore, a prisoner. He asked Michael for a better place to sleep, and Michael showed Ryan his own bed, made for two.

When Michael touched him, it was because that was the natural progression of things. A hand on his cheek, fingers tracing his spine - not so scary anymore - an arm around his waist each night while Ryan stared at the door, which was locked from the inside, the key in a safe only Michael knew the combination to. But it was easier to pretend that the lock was there for show, and that Michael was normal, that he was normal for not fighting, for playing Michael’s game. For needing Michael’s touch.

He could only hold out for so long. When Michael kissed him goodnight, and the room was so dark that Ryan couldn’t see his face, only feel the anonymity of another human body lying close to his own, he said, “I need you to touch me.”

And Michael went still. Ryan wondered not if he had made a grave error, but if he was about to be rejected, if Michael didn’t see Ryan like that.

But instead he heard the other’s voice, half in awe: “Are you sure?”

And Ryan’s hands carefully wound around Michael’s shoulders. “I need it,” he pleaded.

When Michael kissed his cheeks and licked into his mouth and bit his neck, he could only gasp and rub Michael’s back as he got lower. Michael found his sensitive spots with the preciseness of a surgeon, and Ryan was too busy sighing and moaning to wonder what that could mean.

He let Michael touch his cock with his hands and his lips and his tongue. He let Michael’s fingers roam along his chest and thighs, he let Michael turn him on his stomach and open him up, so careful Ryan had to tell him that he was ready twice.

Once Ryan had nightmares about this man latched to his back, doing whatever he wanted while Ryan was stuck in chains or drugged or helpless. There would be blood and bruises and pain, but all he felt now was heat and pleasure, the arousal that started low in his belly spreading to his head. He sighed into a pillow, smelling of Michael’s hair, while Michael rocked into him, kissing the back of his neck until he shivered.

When Michael pulled out and whispered, “Roll over,” Ryan did so without thought. He could see the impression of Michael’s face for a moment as he nudged his cock back inside, and then he leaned down, biting his neck, and Ryan’s arms went around his back and squeezed.

He felt Michael’s hand close around his cock, gently stroking in time with his thrusts. He stuttered out a whine, which was soothed with another kiss. He tried to take in the sensation of everything that was happening: the easy way Michael was fucking him, the warmth of his body on top of his, the way he so easily accepted what was going on. 

He came, his voice strangled and muffled, his vision so hazy it was easier to keep his eyes closed. Michael kept kissing his face.

Ryan didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep until he woke, jolting in Michael’s hold.

He wasn’t sure if Michael had been awake or that his movement had roused him, but a moment later he felt lips on his temple, then his jaw, his shoulder. “Shh…” Michael whispered, before silence returned to the room.

Ryan waited for the regret to seep in, the dirtiness, the guilt; but it never came. Not the next morning, or that evening, or a week later, when he asked Michael to fuck him again – and all he felt was pleasure.

The fact that he could only enjoy himself scared Ryan more than if Michael had just tied him down and done what he wanted. He knew now that he was the sort of victim Michael had been searching for; he could tell from the way Michael would smile at him the mornings after, his eyes tracking him dotingly, that his own fate was sealed: He was never going to escape, not because Michael kept him, but because he would never try.

He was Michael’s until death. One way or the other.

And an ever growing part of him liked it that way.


	15. First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was day five of a 'Myan Advent Calendar' series I did last Christmas (all the stories in this series are smut, by the way). In this one, Michael and Ryan 'go all the way' and show a slightly different way to try penetration.

He had been with Ryan like this for over a month. Laying naked on the other man’s bed wasn’t supposed to be nerve-wracking anymore. Feeling Ryan’s mouth along his shoulder blades wasn’t supposed to make him melt. Hearing a bottle of lube open and close while Ryan situated himself wasn’t supposed to make him grit his teeth and shiver.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” Ryan murmured. Michael clenched his fists in the sheets, wounded pride and nervousness operating in equal measure.

“I’m fucking ready. We’ve done everything else.”

“You know, some guys don’t even like anal.”

“Yeah well,” he rolled his eyes, even though Ryan couldn’t see that. “I like when you use your fingers, so…” he trailed off. Ryan kissed his neck, his hand trailing down the curve of his ass; said fingers slipping easily into Michael’s hole.

“Like this?”

“Y-yeah, come on, I’m ready.” Michael squirmed, feeling two, then three didgits thrusting gently in and out, still slick from when Ryan had worked him upon before. “What are you waiting for?”

“Nothing, just wondering if I could get you off like this,” Michael bit back a moan, reaching his hand back to smack Ryan on his side.

“You know you can, don’t be an asshole.”

Ryan slipped his fingers out, kissing Michael’s shoulder. “Alright, just tell me if you need to stop.”

“Right,” He felt Ryan’s hard cock press against his hole instead. Ryan seemed unconcerned with doing anything but gently thrusting up against his ass while he kissed the top of Michael’s spine. But before he could get out another complaint, Ryan angled his cock, and started to push inside.

“Holy shit,” Michael said under his breath. “Your dick is way bigger than your fingers.”

“I’m aware,” Ryan countered; all the same, the head of his cock slid in, then another inch, and another, all while Ryan continued to kiss Michael’s neck and stroke his cock. Michael tried as hard as he could to stay loose and relaxed. He kept reaching down to touch his stomach, expecting there to be a bulge there.

Everything felt warm and wet and heavy, and he leaned back against Ryan’s body, trying not to make much noise. “You’re doing great,” Ryan praised. “You look so hot, taking it all,” Michael shuttered, his cock twitching in Ryan’s grasp.

Finally the other’s hips stopped moving, fully seated inside as Michael panted and squirmed against the other man. “Mm, so good,” Ryan mouthed against Michael’s skin, stroking his cock quickly now, edging Michael closer to the edge.

“F-fuck,” having Ryan inside and pressed so close, touching him and kissing and talking softly into his ear made Michael dizzy, too many senses competing for attention at once. All it took was Ryan thumbing over the head of his cock and he was coming, a groan rising from the back of his throat; without even thinking he ground his hips against Ryan’s cock, feeling pushed to the limit in the best way.

Ryan carefully pulled out as Michael recovered, hand slipping off his cock to rub comfortingly at Michael’s thighs. “How do you feel?”

“G-great. Fine.” He swallowed, and turned to look Ryan in the eye. “W-wasn’t there supposed to be, you know, actual fucking?”

Ryan smiled indulgently, swiping his fingers against Michael’s fucked out hole. Michael jolted, feeling sore all of a sudden. “That’s why.”

"O-oh, okay.” Michael rolled over, facing Ryan again. “That wasn’t that bad. I mean – it, uh, I liked it. We should do that again.”

“I’m glad,” Ryan said, pulling Michael in for a kiss, harder and more heated; Michael felt Ryan’s shaft against his own spent cock, and he reached down, fully intending to repay Ryan for giving him a memorable first time.


	16. Backseat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was day seven of a 'Myan Advent Calendar' series I did last Christmas (all the stories in this series are smut, by the way). This one is a high school au, where Michael and Ryan decide to pregame before prom.

“We’re kind of early,” Ryan said, checking the half empty parking lot. The sun hadn’t even set, though it was hitting the far side of the hotel where their prom was, so they were cast in shadow. He cut the engine while Michael fiddled with his tie, checking his appearance in the mirror. “You know, it looked fine before you started messing with it.”

“Shut up,”

“Do you want help?” Michael cast Ryan a side glance. The tie was a pale blue to match Ryan’s. While their high school probably didn’t want two guys showing up to the prom as one another’s dates, they both decided to suck it up and go with their friends – it was one of those once in a lifetime opportunity things, after all. “Here,” Ryan turned Michael so he was facing him and batted his hands away. Michael groaned in the back of his throat, but didn’t complain any further. Ryan’s fingers brushed Michael’s shirt and throat as he knotted the tie. “Tighter?”

“A little. Thanks.” Ryan thumbed over the silk, glancing into Michael’s eyes. “What?”

“Nothing, you just look good in a suit.” Michael smiled like Ryan’s compliment was a dirty secret.

“Well,” Michael leaned in close, “I’m not the only one.” They kissed, chaste and gentle at first, but then Ryan nipped at Michael’s lip, and the younger man quickly took that as a challenge. He tugged Ryan closer by the back of his neck, which made Ryan grab Michael by the lapels of his suit jacket. The one uppance continued until Michael had undone Ryan’s tie and the top three buttons of his shirt to suck at his neck. Ryan shivered, and swiped his hand down to confirm that Michael was starting to get hard, too.

“I can’t believe…” Ryan swallowed, and Michael pulled back to look at him, his eyes dark and impish behind his glasses. “This is worse than the movies last week.”

“I’d say it’s better,” Michael said nonchalantly, slipping his glasses off and putting them in the empty cupholder of Ryan’s Jeep. He started to tug off his suit jacket.

“What are you doing?”

“I know you, do you think that’s going to go down anytime soon without help?” Ryan turned pink, watching the dark material of Michael’s slack stretch across his ass while he climbed into the back seat.

“We’re – we’re in a fucking parking lot, Michael,” Ryan argued, trying to adjust himself in his trousers.

“In the dark half an hour before anyone’s gonna show up. We have a few minutes to spare.” He shot the other man a wide, assuming smile. “It’ll be worth it.”

“I’m sure.” Ryan took off his jacket anyway and wriggled into the back, trying not to bang his elbow against the headrest of the driver’s seat. He fell into the vinyl, and Michael was on top of him right away, kissing his neck and undoing his belt. A moment later he was tugging on Ryan’s cock, making him groan. “Wh-what are you going to do? Make me, fuck, come all over the seats?” Michael withdrew and pulled his pants down to his thighs, exposing his flushed shaft.

“Don’t be stupid,” Ryan felt his mouth go dry as Michael turned over, getting on his hands and knees. “I won’t let your car get stained.”

“You want me to –”

“I’m still kind of open from when we fucked yesterday. Shouldn’t take that long,” Michael rasped out. “Still have that KY shit, right?”

“…Holy shit.”

“That doesn’t sound like you looking for lube, babe,” Michael teased. Ryan jolted forward, arm outstretched so he could pop open the glove compartment. In between a pile of napkins and insurance papers, he found a few packets of lube. He took one, tearing it open and squeezing some onto his fingers. He circled Michael’s hole for a moment before sinking in; he could slide in two fingers, and he felt his cock twitch desperately against his thigh as he worked in a third. “F-fuck,” Michael whispered, shifting on his knees.

“You… oh God,”

“What?”

“Nothing just, I can’t believe you want me to fill your ass before we go to fucking prom.”

“D-didn’t wanna wait till after.” Ryan groaned under his breath, spreading the rest of the lube on his fingers and palming his cock. Michael looked over his shoulder again. “Ready?”

“Shit, I should be saying that to you.” Michael shrugged and Ryan lined up his cock, sliding halfway in on the first thrust and making Michael shout. “You okay?”

“Fuck, I am – way better than okay.”

Ryan pushed forward again, hands wrapped around Michael’s hips. It was so easy to slide inside, like Michael was just made for him. He glanced out the windows of the car, but just like when they first drove in, there was no one around.

Which meant that no one would mind if they got a little noisy. Ryan leaned down, kissing up Michael’s spine as he fucked him, rocking his hips as Michael panted. He went down on one elbow, the other hand wrapped around his own cock. “S-shit, Ryan. Feels so good." 

"Yeah? God, you’re so tight,” Ryan bit the back of Michael’s neck and the other moaned, pushing against Ryan’s cock each time he pulled out. “Fuck,”

“P-please, please,” Michael whimpered, falling apart as he got closer to coming. He glanced over his shoulder again, the self assured expression he once had fucked out of him, all that was left was a blissful, flustered look instead. “God, I’m gonna - oh fuck, Ryan,” Michael clenched up around him and Ryan knew he was coming. He watched the line of Michael’s spine shiver as his muscles tightened up, and by the time Michael was somewhat coherent again, Ryan was about to lose it himself.

“Michael,” he panted out, leaning over the other.

“Y-yeah?”

“Did you come on the seat?” Michael shakily nodded his head. Ryan felt a wicked smile work its way onto his face. “You’re going to clean that up when I’m done with you, right?" 

"Uh-huh,”

“Mm, fuck. Good boy.” Michael gasped when Ryan fucked into him as deep as he could, finally coming inside, groaning low in his throat. He stayed still for a moment, feeling his pulse rush into his ears.

After catching his breath he leaned back, pulling out of Michael and reaching up in the glove compartment for a wad of napkins to wipe off his cock. "T-that was. Holy shit,“ Ryan breathed out.

Michael nodded, tucking himself into his trousers and zipping himself up. "Can I get a napkin?”

“Why?”

“You wanted me to clean the seat, right?” Ryan glanced down to the wet spot on the vinyl before looking up at Michael’s face, still pink. 

“I didn’t say you got to use napkins, did I?” Michael furrowed his eyebrows for a moment.

“You want me to -”

“Every drop." 

”…Fuck you,“ Michael muttered, but he bent over the wet spot just the same.


	17. Back Against the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was day eight of a 'Myan Advent Calendar' series I did last Christmas (all the stories in this series are smut, by the way). In this one, Michael runs into an incubus by the name of Ryan.

‘Blackbear’ considered itself a bar, but according the type of headache Michael was getting, it really was just another club crammed into a stout brick building in downtown Austin. He finished his third drink and left the bar, face heating up as he passed the dancing groups and pushed through the arguably loudest part of the place on his way to the backdoor.

He read the glowing exit sign like an answer to his prayers, and pushed outside into the brisk autumn air. It wasn’t cold out, not yet, but in comparison with the cramped insides of the so-called bar, the temperature drop was enough to make his spine tingle.

Or maybe it was the guy who told him to follow him out there five minutes ago.

His name was Ryan, and he had bought Michael his third beer. He was smoking now, halfway through a cigarette as he paced down the narrow alleyway that led off to a side street. His boot scraped the cracked pavement as he turned, face glancing up to meet Michael’s gaze.

He smiled and blew out a puff of smoke. “Thought you weren’t going to show up.”

Michael stepped away from the doorway, leaning against the brick wall. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. “You know, a little faith doesn’t hurt.” Ryan smiled; it wasn’t a friendly one. He dropped his cigarette and crushed it with the tip of his shoe as he crossed over to where Michael was standing. Michael didn’t smell liquor on him, only the hint of smoke. And something else. It must have been a cologne; the sort that was imported, so fancy and rich it made Michael’s head spin. “What about blind faith?” Ryan murmured against his ear.

“Who doesn’t take a risk every once in a while,” Michael countered. Ryan stared down at him, eyes light, and mouth dark. Michael leaned up and brushed their lips together.

After that, any gentleness Ryan had vanished. He pushed Michael up against the wall, hips pressed together and hand in his hair. Michael opened his mouth, feeling his headache dissipate as he kissed the other man.

Ryan pulled away from his mouth, kissed down his jaw and started biting at his neck, hard enough to leave marks. Michael grappled at the smooth leather jacket Ryan wore, already half hard, a bulge pressing against Ryan’s thigh. “Come on, come on,” Michael stuttered. “Thought you wanted to suck my dick, not fuckin’ hold hands.”

“If this is what you count as holding hands, you like risks more than you let on.” Michael panted, feeling his face grow pink.

“You’re the one who bought me a drink. I’m just giving you what you want.”

“That’s right,” Michael felt two large hands undo the belt on his jeans. “This is what I want.” Michael’s cock twitched watching Ryan get down on his knees. God, he was so damn big; wide shoulders and a hard chest. Michael wondered if he was some sort of athlete, but – “Shit,” he breathed out, as the other man took his cock out of his pants. Michael pulled up his shirt, exposing his stomach, and as Ryan pumped his shaft he moved his head to the right, kissing his hip.

“Something wrong?” Ryan asked, glancing up. His eyes drew Michael in, and everything else seemed to float away. 

“N-no,” His legs started to tremble as he spoke. Ryan smiled again and all Michael saw were teeth.

Then there were warm lips on the tip of his cock. “Oh, fuck,” he whimpered, pressing a hand to his mouth as Ryan licked the underside of his shaft. Everything was hot, his mouth was silk and oil and without even pausing to take a breath he took Michael all the way down his throat, nose pressed against his lower stomach. He tried not to scream, or topple over, or come, so he didn’t have room in his brain for anything else.

“Still with me, Michael?” Ryan said, sliding off of Michael’s cock. His lips were wet, so was his shaft. Michael tried to string words together when Ryan began kissing his head again, sliding his tongue along his dick like he already knew the exact way Michael liked to be touched.

“S-so, good - Ryan, fuck. How -" 

"Don’t worry about how,” Ryan admonished, mouth wrapped around Michael like he was trying to eat him. “Don’t even think, just feel. That’s why you came out here, right?" 

"O-oh God,” Michael moaned, voice wavering as Ryan sank his mouth down on his cock once more. The other man started going to fucking town on him, sucking and swirling his tongue and humming and fuck fuck fuck he couldn’t think about anything except Ryan’s mouth on him. It was better than than fucking, better than anything Michael had ever felt before. He kept his head bowed, mouth open - he might have even been drooling, but he couldn’t help it, too far gone already. 

And then Ryan looked up at him again, still sucking on his dick like he needed it as badly as Michael needed to come. 

“Shit!” His hips thrusted hard, but Ryan’s hands held him against the wall while he came down the man’s throat, cock twitching and painting the inside of Ryan’s mouth white. It felt like he couldn’t stop, like he was stuck coming because of how good it had been. 

When he finally stopped shaking, whimpering from sensitivity instead, Ryan withdrew, tucking Michael back into his pants. Without Ryan holding his hips against the wall, he slid down, not caring that he was sitting on the ground like he was high instead of just… recovering. His headache came back full force, making him more fatigued than before. “So pretty,” Michael’s eyes slid over to Ryan, still on his knees. His eyes were shining, and he had on that weird, toothy smile again. 

Ryan grabbed Michael’s chin and pulled him forward for a messy kiss. Michael tasted himself on the other man’s tongue and shuttered. “Please,” he started, but he didn’t know what he wanted. 

Ryan kept grinning at him before reaching down. In his dazed state, Michael didn’t realize that the other man had taken his phone out of his pocket until he saw Ryan looking at it. “Hey…”

“Shh, I’m not taking it.” He unlocked it and fiddled with it for a minute, texting out something before dropping the cellphone onto Michael’s lap. “Put my number in there. Call me if you’re up for another risk.” Michael blinked, and when he opened his eyes - either a second or some minutes later - Ryan had vanished.


	18. Waking Up III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was day nine of a 'Myan Advent Calendar' series I did last Christmas (all the stories in this series are smut, by the way). YET ANOTHER 'waking up together' story.

Michael snuffled into his pillow, legs twisted in the sheets. It was cold outside, clouds overcast, but he didn’t know that with the way Ryan was draped over him, kissing the back of his neck softly. He opened his eyes and made a grab for his phone. “What time is it?”

Ryan reached out, grabbing Michael’s hand and entwining their fingers. “Early enough. You won’t be late.”

“Ryan, it’s a movie shoot, not work…” Ryan seemed uninterested in the logic there, and as Michael began to wake up a little more, he found it harder to think about leaving bed; leaving Ryan. 

“Technically, they’re both the same thing.” Michael snorted. “I know you’re tired.”

“Not tired. I’m fine.” He laughed as Ryan pressed his mouth against Michael’s lips, his beard scratching lightly against his cheek. “You act like you haven’t seen me in a month.”

“I’ve barely seen you in a month.” Ryan slid his hand out of Michael’s grasp and trailed up his thigh, touching Michael’s cock through his underwear and running across his stomach. “And I know you miss this.”

“Mm,” Michael hummed in agreement, closing his eyes. 

“I’ll take care of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Michael pushed back against Ryan, tugging at his thigh while Ryan’s hand pulled his shorts down, letting his cock out. “Just relax.”

“If I relax any more, I’m going to fall asleep again.” Ryan just kept on kissing the back of his neck while he slowly stroked Michael’s shaft. He was relaxed, like he said, but Ryan was right; for nearly a month they had hardly seen each other, much less had a decent conversation. Most of the time Michael was on his way to the shoot, or he was sleeping in and Ryan left to the office. Michael always stumbled home late at night, and could barely pull off his shoes before collapsing into bed. 

So, any concept of sex had pretty much vanished from his life for the past few weeks, in other words. And feeling Ryan’s warm hand touch his cock made his breath hitch. He stiffened easily, thrusting his hips into the other man’s grip. “Feels good?" 

"Great. Ah, shit,” Michael bit his lip, curling his toes while Ryan’s lips trailed down his shoulder, teeth nipping at skin. “Ryan, fuck.”

“Something you wanna say?" 

"No, just - fuck - don’t stop.”

“I don’t plan to,” Ryan growled, making Michael squirm against him as Ryan teased the head of his cock. “Sensitive, right?”

“Y-es.” Michael whimpered, feeling Ryan’s thumb press just under the head of his shaft. Fuck, he was close. Everything was hot and easy and the idea to hold back didn’t even enter his brain. “Rye-” Michael’s voice cracked as he spilled over Ryan’s hand, cock twitching as he pressed back against the other man. 

Ryan’s mouth continued to kiss his throat as he panted, trying to calm down. Ryan’s hand drew away and Michael smiled, closing his eyes. "You were right,“ Michael rasped out, voice warm. He turned around in Ryan’s hold, facing Ryan.

"Of course. But about what, specifically?”

“You took care of me,” He glanced down, pulling Ryan’s hand up to his mouth to kiss the top of his hand. “Just like you said." 

Ryan wrapped his arm around Michael, tugging him close and kissing his hair. "One of my favorite things to do.” He squeezed Michael in a hug for a moment before letting Michael slip out of his grip, climbing out of bed to start his day.


	19. Noise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was day ten of a 'Myan Advent Calendar' series I did last Christmas (all the stories in this series are smut, by the way). Another King!Ryan story, but this one is definitely a rougher ride... and by that I mean some dubious consent.

The King’s hall was built with high, arched ceilings; gods and myths painted on the dome above while a rich carpet from the finest spinsters created a blood red path from entrance hall to throne. King Haywood sat atop the large chair, greeting the visiting royalty or listening to local complaints, but it was inherently meant to be a showcase of wealth and power; a statement of everything the man had at his fingertips.

That afternoon he had one of the most notorious warriors in the continent under his hands, moaning against his neck. “M-my King,” he stuttered - words followed by a painful smack to his thigh.

“This room echoes, Michael, use it." 

"My King, please!” the other man shouted, squirming on Ryan’s lap as he quickly rode his cock.

Michael was the head of Ryan’s army; for someone to call him anything but his warrior name - Mogar: something hand-picked as a child who brought down the monsters of the forest by himself, a title that struck a familiar, fearful chord with even strangers - was an invitation for certain death. But Ryan was King, one of the few that outranked him. If he wished to call him Michael, he would accept it as his title.

And if he wished to use his body like a common whore’s, he could only spread his legs.

“There are neighboring monarchs here for business,” Ryan offered, squeezing Michael’s hips possessively. “They came while you were off bathing in blood. They’ve been asking for you.”

“Y-yes my - oh, fuck!” he cried out when the King, again tired of Michael’s low volume, slammed him down on his cock. He held Michael there, forcing him to be filled to the point of pain. “Please, my L-Liege!" 

"They can hear you,” Ryan growled. “Their rooms are just down the corridor. Why did you think I’m fucking you here?”

“Fuck!” Michael hissed, still wriggling his hips. His own hands were clenched into fists while the King used him. 

“They only see you as Mogar. They think you’re a demon, or magic at least. Someone to fear and please at all times.” Ryan grasped harshly at Michael’s hips, forcing him up his cock once again before slamming back down, smiling when Michael shrieked. “But you’re just a silly little boy, aren’t you? Can barely be fucked without crying like a virgin.” Michael whined again, but for all his complaint his cock still strained up, flushed nearly violet he so badly needed relief.

The King, as an after thought, took his hand off Michael’s hip and stroked his cock - the lightest touch had him moaning, tipping his head back while his shaft twitched, desperate for release.

“If they ask, I’ll let them do this to you. Make you scream so loudly that the whole castle will hear.” Michael looked back down at his King, fucking himself hard and deep while the King teased his cock. “Even better, perhaps the outside court. Everyone in the kingdom could see what you really are.”

“M-my King I -” Ryan leaned up, grinning slowly.

“A pretty, noisy slut.” He forced Michael to take all of him as he stroked his cock properly. 

“Ryan, f-fuck, please please please!” he screamed out, so loudly it echoed off the high ceiling. Michael came, squirming and clenching tight around Ryan’s cock while he continued to fuck the young man. By the time he finally emptied himself into Michael’s hole, the other man could only whimper softly, his voice just about gone. 

He put his chin under Michael’s neck and tilted his face up to see. The soldier’s eyes were still glassy, looking past the King as he couldn’t focus his gaze. His mouth hung open, and the freckles on his cheeks stood out against the pink flush bleeding through his skin. 

Ryan pulled Michael forward for a long kiss, easily dominating it while Michael shut his eyes, leaning forward and sighing, quiet once again. “Go back to your chambers,” Ryan murmured, pulling away. “And get something to drink. You’ll be addressing the monarchs on our wins in an hour.”

“Yes, My King,” Michael croaked out, before slipping off of Ryan and dressing himself. Ryan watched the warrior leave the throne room, pleased at the slow, uneven gait the young man now had.


	20. The Things That You Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was day eleven of a 'Myan Advent Calendar' series I did last Christmas (all the stories in this series are smut, by the way). It's Michael and Ryan and dirty talk.

“Oh, fuck, you’re already hard, aren’t you?” Ryan bit his lip, shifting against the headboard he was propped up against. Michael’s fingers danced along the outline his cock made in his underwear. “Take ‘em off,” the younger man growled. “Wanna see what you look like.”

“I’m pretty sure you know what I look like,” Ryan countered, sliding the boxer-briefs down his thighs and kicking them off the bed. Michael was still clothed. Ryan glanced down, wondering if the other man was hard, but then Michael’s hand was on his cock, leaning up against Ryan’s side while his lips were nearly pressed against his jaw. He could feel Michael’s breath trail down his neck. 

“I do, don’t I?” Michael supposed, squeezing Ryan’s cock just hard enough to be painful. Ryan winced, but didn’t say anything; fisting his hands in the sheets while he watched Michael lazily stroke up and down his cock. His palm was already slick with lube, and his shaft looked wet in no time, like Michael had put his mouth on him instead. “Such a nice cock.”

“Shit,”

Michael hummed and kissed Ryan’s skin. "Yeah, such a thick, hard cock. Always nice to feel it in my hand, or my mouth.“ Ryan could hear the smile in Michael’s voice. "Or my ass. You like it there too, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Love making me whine for you to fuck me, right, Rye? Turn me into a slut?”

“I - fuck,”

“Mm, yeah, you know I love it, too - but you know what I love even more than all of those things?" Ryan panted, his legs trembling as he tried not to move around. Michael was working his cock with both hands now, slowly stroking the shaft while he rubbed his palm in maddeningly slow circles along the head. "Making you desperate.” Michael drew his hands away as he spoke, and without thinking Ryan thrust his hips up into nothing, feeling his cock jump. He didn’t even realize how close he was until Michael had stopped touching him. 

“God, fuck, Michael, please -” Ryan panted out, reaching his hand up to grasp at the other’s shirt. “F-fuck, please," 

"Yeah, sweetheart, just like that. Such a good boy for me." 

"G-good boy?” Michael kissed his neck again, sucking marks along his collar. His fingers traced up and down Ryan’s shaft, making indistinct patterns as drops of precome started to form at the tip of his flushed cock. 

“Yeah, laying here and letting me do what I want to you.” Michael swiped his thumb over the head of Ryan’s cock, wetting his finger. He brought it up to Ryan’s lips. “You like this, don’t you? Wanna do it all the time?”

Ryan groaned softly, swallowing nervously as he stared at Michael’s hand in front of him. He was trying to think, but it felt like any coherency he had was ruined the second Michael started talking. Before he realized what he was doing, he opened his mouth and leaned forward, sucking on Michael’s thumb and humming at the taste of himself.

Michael’s other hand closed around Ryan’s cock again. “Good boy,” he whispered, and resumed stroking.


	21. Solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was day fourteen of a 'Myan Advent Calendar' series I did last Christmas (all the stories in this series are smut, by the way). Day twelve and thirteen were already apart of its own fic on here, called 'Roommates'. In this story, it's just some good ol' masturbation.

It started off by squeezing his cock gently through his underwear as he shifted to get comfortable on the couch. He couldn’t hold back anymore, too hard and hot to stop himself from pulling his boxer-briefs down just low enough to free his cock, warm and thick, falling against his stomach. “God,” he whispered to himself, reaching down to tease his fingers up and down his shaft, just enough to make his cock twitch and his insides clench up. “Mm, fuck…” he trailed off, sucking on his cheek as he slid lower on the seat, planting his feet firmly on the cool floor. 

He thumbed the head of his cock for a few seconds, watching as it grew flushed against his fingers. The sight of it made the inside of his mouth wet, and he couldn’t resist bringing his hand up to lick a long, dripping stripe down his palm. He groaned as he fisted his cock, starting to jack himself in slow, tight strokes.

The pleasure built his way up from his cock, reaching to his stomach and thighs and climbing as he continued to touch himself, letting tiny moans escape, not fighting the urge to thrust his hips up like he was fucking something besides his own fist. “Shit,” he shivered when he lightly ran the edge of his fingernails along the skin of his shaft, jolting at the threat of pain it brought. He couldn’t help himself, starting to stroke himself faster, feeling himself get closer to the edge each time he twisted his wrist and squeezed and, “F-fuck, fuck…”

He bit his lip as he thrust up into his fist one last time. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned out, his voice turning into a low, animalistic growl as he finally came, leaking out thick streaks of white that dripped down his fist, slicking his shaft. “G-god,” he stuttered, feeling his heartbeat echo in his ears.

He sighed, shifting in his seat while his cock throbbed. “Mmph,” He brought his hand up, staring at the mess that coated his knuckles. He poked his tongue out, tasting some of the bitterness that streaked his skin, keeping eye contact with the other man in the room as he did. 

Pulling his hand away, Ryan licked his lips. "Goddamn, that was good,“ he murmured, leaning back in his seat.

"Fuck yeah it was,” Michael said, voice dry. Ryan could see the younger man squirm in his, legs spread wide on either side of him. “So fuckin’ hot.” Ryan grinned at the praise, wiping the rest of the mess on his underwear. “…Hey,” Michael rasped out, tugging his own underwear down his thighs, “Wanna watch me next?"


	22. Wake Up Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was day fifteen of a 'Myan Advent Calendar' series I did last Christmas (all the stories in this series are smut, by the way). This was also a story that takes place in my work in progress historical au, The Gardener, where Ryan is a rich English Lord and Michael is the head gardener working at his estate.

There was a funeral of an aunt which had whisked Ryan away in a hurry with no idea of the time of his return. Michael made some attempts to inquire Ms. Tuggey and Blaine, for if someone was to know when Lord Haywood would return, it would have been them. But after the fifth day of no news, he resigned himself to long laboring days and quiet evenings; according to Tuggey, the master of the house would sometimes hide his arrival date, to guarantee the behavior of the servants while he was gone. It wasn’t an unusual practice, so far as Michael could tell.

On the eighth night of his master’s absence Michael had fallen into a usual routine – dinner with the other heads of house, some conversation with the maids and grooms as they meandered through their shared quarters, then a smoke in the gardens before bed. He tried to empty his head of thoughts of works and of Ryan, falling into a dreamless state soon enough.

He awoke in the night.

At first he suspected nothing serious, but then he felt the light press of someone’s hand, at first misplaced because of his own body heat trapped in blankets. He blinked, still on the cusp of sleep, then he caught a scent of expensive tobacco and exotic cologne. He breathed deeply, “Sir?” he called out.

“I’m here,” Ryan said. Michael closed his eyes and smiled.

“If you were going to come back this night I would have stayed up waiting.”

“No need.” Ryan’s hands pushed down the blankets he slept under, running his hands gently down his sides, past his stomach. It was unbelievably soothing, and having been brought out of a deep sleep he felt the sort of calmness that fed into slight arousal. He sighed, relaxing further.

“Did you come to say goodnight?” Ryan drew his hands away, making Michael frown. He heard the shuffling of clothes, persisting for a few minutes. Michael guessed Ryan was taking off his boots and pants, his shirt; he swallowed, feeling his cock twitch. He realized with embarrassment that he went to bed nude, the rooms on the upper floors too stuffy in the spring and summer. He still couldn’t see Ryan in the dark except for faint shapes where shadow became darker than black, and yet he felt on display, exposed entirely in front of his employer. Shamefully, he turned over, flopping onto his stomach and peering at the blackness from over his shoulder. He ignored the way his shaft throbbed into the sheets, the instincts calling for him to push his hips against the mattress over and over again until he came.

After some time he felt Ryan shift and seat himself more fully on Michael’s small bed and on top of him – his knees on either side of Michael’s spread legs. A kiss went between his shoulder blades and he couldn’t help the shutter that passed through him. “I missed you,” Ryan murmured into Michael’s skin.

“And I missed you, sir.” Again his master’s hands ran along his sides, dipping along his spine, and rounding the curve of Michael’s ass.

“Have you been good while I was away?”

“Of course, sir.” Michael mumbled, this time unable to resist the urge to thrust lazily into the mattress.

“Good.” Presently, one of Ryan’s hands withdrew, “Now, you must have something…” As he said this Michael gasped, feeling one of Ryan’s fingers, slick with spit, touch against his hole.

“H-here sir, under the bed…” Michael leaned up on his arms, reaching underneath where he lay. After a few moments of fumbling, Ryan still teasing his entrance, his hands clasped around a small tub of salve he used to keep his skin from getting too rough. It smelt like sandalwood, and rubbed smoothly against skin. He passed it behind him, and felt Ryan take it.

“Thank you,” he said, a moment later Michael felt two fingers slowly press into him. He wanted to protest – he had resisted even teasing himself during Ryan’s departure, not knowing how long he had to do without – but still loose from sleep and Ryan’s gentle prodding, he opened up easily around the other’s digits, and he could only let out a small groan into the pillow. He folded his arms under himself, pressing the pillow further into his face. “Shh…” Ryan breathed out, adding a third finger. Michael pushed into the mattress again, still relaxed but growing more awake as Ryan’s ministrations continued, stretching him in a way that only reminded him of how much he had missed the other man.

When Ryan finally pushed into him, he could only moan into his pillow. He felt his cock pulse hotly, pressed against his stomach and leaking drops of precome as though his body was now realizing how deprived it had been. Ryan’s hands went to his hips, pulling him up slightly as he thrust. Each push in was so deep he could nearly feel it hit his stomach, and he couldn’t keep a small, keening noise inside of him, not when Ryan’s body dropped lower, pressing against his back, his master’s mouth biting the top knob of his spine.

Ryan’s movements pushed Michael’s hips back and forth on their own, and soon enough his cock was sliding in a small pool of wetness, pressed between his blankets and stomach. His body was flush, and he felt full and sleepy and arousal thrummed through him, unable to shake away his sluggishness but still making him whine and push back onto Ryan’s cock.

He heard his master’s breath get heavy, his pace more unruly. He rolled his head to the side. “Close sir?” he breathed out, biting his lip as he waited for an answer.

“Yes,” Ryan’s voice seemed to vibrate through him. “Such a good boy, Michael,” He felt a hand in his hair, another still gripping his side. Michael groaned again, turning his head back into his pillow. His legs went limp as Ryan’s pace quickened, and his cock slid so easily in its spot, sweet friction building up and making his stomach unconsciously clench. He spilled suddenly, pleasure overtaking him, making him pull his head up to draw in breaths of air. His cock throbbed into the sheets and he felt streams of come leak onto his skin and the bed. Ryan’s movements as he fucked into him only prolonged the feelings of bliss, and after a few moments he slumped boneless back into bed.

Not long after that, Ryan came with a gasp. Michael felt his cock pulse inside of him, he could only guess how pent up Ryan was, how much come was in Michael now. The thought made him mumble out a curse, settling further into his mattress as Ryan carefully pulled out of him and rose from the bed. The quilts that had been pushed to the side now went around his shoulders again; it almost seemed like too much cover, but Michael snuggled into it regardless.

“I’ll talk with you tomorrow,” Ryan promised. Michael hummed, head in a daze. Ryan kissed the side of his face not obscured by the pillow and slowly slid off the bed. Michael could make out the sound of rustling clothes once again, and took it that Ryan was more inclined to go to sleep in his own bed. Michael couldn’t say he was offended by the choice.

Rolling onto his side away from the wet spot he had made, Michael quickly fell asleep again.


	23. Ignorance is Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "'I've somehow been completely oblivious to this whole zombie apocalypse thing and you tried to hide in my barn, guess we're now apocalypse buddies' AU. Ryan freaking out when he finds a really angry kid on his property." Some minor mentions of death, violence, typical zombie apocalypse affair.

The zombie apocalypse officially starts when some guy (who had first thought to be on some tainted molly and bath salts) ate his girlfriend and their dog in some trailer park in Florida - of course it starts in Florida. Ryan watches the story on the news when everyone first suspected it was just a bizarre drug case, and people likened it to past stories of ‘bath salt zombies’. Then Ryan moved on with his life. Being a small time farmer takes a lot more work than one would think, and since it was harvest season, Ryan had been too busy picking fruit from his orchards to actually talk to anyone or watch the news in, say, a week and a half?

Apparently ten days is all it takes for the entire Deep South to lose their shit. On the eleventh day, Ryan wakes up to no power in his house, and he has to go out to his barn to get out an old generator that he hopes still works. 

When he gets to the barn, however, he sees that one of the windows had been broken with a rock, or something similar. Which is especially strange considering he’s miles from anyone. He does a look around just to be safe, and after poking at a few empty hay piles and looking in the cow pens, he climbs up to the top floor of the barn, and sees a teenager curled up in the hay stacks. “Really?” 

“Look, man, I don’t mean any trouble -”

“Then why’d you break my fucking window?”

“I needed a place to hide out, okay?” Ryan thinks he’s got a runaway on his hands, and he beckons the kid down the ladder, asking where his parents lived. 

“Shit, man, my parents are up in fucking New Jersey. I came down to Florida on vacation and - shit, man…” 

“Florida? How the hell did you get up to Georgia?” The kid shakes his head. 

“You don’t wanna know. Military’s put up a blockade all around the state borders, and I think they might be doing the same here soon.” That’s the first clue Ryan has that either something had gone wrong while he was off gardening, or this kid is crazy. 

“Do you… wanna come inside?” Ryan asks, southern hospitality kicking in at the worst time. “I was just coming to get my generator.” 

In the next hour, the kid - who is named Michael Jones and is not a fucking kid, actually - tells Ryan about how there’s an actual fucking zombie outbreak that Ryan just missed out of sheer luck, Shawn of the Dead style, and when Ryan doesn’t believe him, he finally gets the generator working again, and the news confirms it. It also confirms Michael’s suspicions - Georgia’s been quarantined apparently, along with Florida, Louisiana, Alabama… 

“We’re trapped here,” Ryan says in a choked voice. 

“Looks like it.” As Ryan stares at the television screen, trying to process everything that’s happening, he feels Michael sit down beside him on the couch, and the younger man starts to speak:

“Now, look, I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know you… We could both be fucking serial killers as far as the other one goes, but, uh, you’re really isolated, Ryan, and you even have food sources, and a generator and everything. And, well, it wasn’t exactly my dashing looks that got me seven hours north of where I was in Florida, okay?”

“…You want to stay here?” Ryan whispers.

“It could work out,” Michael mumbles. “If there was a way to barricade us in; I have a feeling we’re gonna be better off here. But, I mean, it’s up to you, I guess. It is your house.”

“So it’s not total anarchy yet?” Ryan asks. Michael smiles shakily.

“You aren’t going to get far without someone watching your back,” he says. 

“Then… you can stay. But you’re going to have to learn how to farm.”

“And you’re gonna have to learn how to kill shit.”


	24. Dimples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In every au where they're together, Ryan always kisses Michael's dimples because they're the cutest thing ever.

Michael had been working at Rooster Teeth for a few years now and he could say with complete certainty that he had never laughed more in his life than when he was an employee here; every project the company undertook always took a comedic approach, and having friends (and a significant other) as coworkers guaranteed he spent a lot of time on the clock grinning stupidly. 

After one such occasion (he’d been leaning over Ryan’s shoulder while the other man showed him a hilarious instance of ragdoll physics that made Michael break down into giggles) Ryan turned to him and said, “You have dimples.”

Sobering, Michael went, “I’m aware.”

Ryan raised up his hand and crooked a finger in front of Michael’s face, prompting him to move forward. He felt Ryan’s lips graze low on his cheek. “I like them.” 

“Uh, thanks?” 

From that moment on, Michael was a marked man. 

Ryan’s lips naturally seemed to go to his cheeks - every morning there was a kiss on his lips, then where his dimples were, before Ryan rolled out of bed. If Michael smiled at his phone on the way to work, Ryan would lean over and kiss the small indents on his face while they were stopped at a red light. He wasn’t even safe during sex - Ryan would catch Michael smiling softly at him and a hand would gently cup his face, a thumb brushing that particular feature that Ryan loved so much.

Michael didn’t actually mind, but one day he couldn’t resist asking Ryan why, exactly, it was his dimples that he focused on. “Is that like, a thing for you?” he asked as Ryan pulled away, having just given Michael another pair of doting kisses on his cheeks.

“Why? am I not giving the rest of you enough attention?”

“No, just…” Ryan looked evenly at Michael for a moment, his eyes glinting.

“Well… You really only see your dimples when you smile widely - when you’re really enjoying yourself. I like seeing you happy, so,” Ryan shrugged self-consciously. “Seeing your dimples - knowing you’re really carefree at a particular moment - it’s one of my favorite things.”

Michael pressed his lips into a flat line. “Nerd,” he choked out, bringing his arms up to tug Ryan into a hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Ryan said, his voice as happy as Michael felt.


	25. New Old Order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done for a challenge, inspired by Lorde's "Everybody Wants to Rule the World"

Gavin - the Jester, the Fool - had become King. Even Michael was astounded. He watched the man play games and tricks, all while adorned with a golden crown.

So when Ryan returned, The True King, His King, the one who had proven himself not once but twice, approached Michael and asked for his assistance in gaining his rightful place on the throne, Michael didn’t hesitate.

He snuck into Gavin’s bedroom, recalling the old passageways from when Ryan was ruler and he called for him to be in his chambers. He didn’t pause before slitting Gavin’s throat, watching him topple from the bed, eyes wide and pleading as Michael kicked him to the ground.

Michael emerged in the morning, light blinding the courtyard. Subjects were gathered, Ryan amoung them. Michael took the crown from his pack and knelt before him. “To the King - may this be the end of challengers.” The people around the pair gasped and backed away as Ryan took the burden from Michael’s grasp. 

“Nothing lasts forever,” Ryan said to the crowd, adjusting the crown on his head. “Except for me.”


	26. Desk Sex I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is hella short but it has bottom!Ryan in it and I thought that was very important.

_Imagine: Michael decides to work at home when he can because of shooting for the movie, so he dedicates a small room in his and Ryan's apartment for work stuff. Michael's sitting at his desk one day, reading through another revised script, when he hears the familiar sound of Ryan's collar. He doesn't think much about it and gets absorbed into his work again, until he feels Ryan feeling Michael up through his pants, asking permission to suck his dick. So Michael fucks Ryan's mouth while he works. — Anonymous_

Yeah, Michael doesn’t let it show on his face, just spreads his thighs and leans back a little in his desk chair. Sometimes, if his pet gets a little too eager, he’ll reach down to tug on his collar to silently tell him to slow down. He knows Ryan can’t help it; he just misses Michael’s cock, since their schedules tend to conflict because of the movie.

In between writing notes on his script, he’ll pet Ryan’s hair. “That’s right, suck it, baby, you’re doing such a good job for me.“ Ryan just hums around Michael’s cock, swallowing him down so he can feel Michael’s dick rub against the back of his throat. He loves it when Michael comes down his throat, and his voice is hoarse for the rest of the day because of it.


	27. Tease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, from this ask: "Ryan loves keeping Michael on edge forever until he is a complete and total mess"

Initially, Ryan didn’t start out as a huge tease, it kind of just happened - Michael’s surprisingly quiet in bed, not completely silent, but his moans are soft and he’s more likely to just suck in a breath of air than yell the other man’s name, and that quiet show of arousal, the way he shifts on the bed and thrusts his hips up and throws a hand into his curls or over his eyes makes Ryan want to see more and more of that. 

So he starts drawing everything out - fucks Michael slower, doesn’t touch his cock as much as Michael wishes he would, and instead just watches Michael roll his eyes up, wordless at first until he starts to get really desperate, squeezing Ryan’s hips and scratching down his back and ordering him to hurry the fuck up or else he might explode and die, and it all just encourages Ryan to keep Michael on the edge of coming until he gets loud and angry and then, eventually, he quiets down again, because he’s mindless from pleasure, almost placid in how Ryan’s using his body as his own personal show. The poor guy is so exhausted because of Ryan, sometimes.


	28. Gangster Boyfriends I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt: "gta!au were the fake ah crew are going to have a meeting at Michael's apartment in the morning but during the night Ryan stayed over then in the morning Michael walks out to get something to drink in Ryan's shirt which is way to big for him but he doesn't notice everyone is just sitting around in the living room chatting until hes on his way back to the room to get ready for the day."

And Ryan had probably mumbled something about ‘that meeting at noon’ to Michael around nine in the morning, to which Michael had said ‘yeah, yeah, see you then’ and just rolled over while Ryan left to get a change of clothes - thinking maybe he should just get a ‘drawer’ or whatever the expression was that meant a noncommittal, constant stay-over relationship. 

Michael doesn’t wake up until five minutes to twelve and he just rolls out of bed in Ryan’s white T-shirt and a pair of boxers, scrubbing at his face and opening the bedroom door. He doesn’t notice the other five people who had suddenly stopped talking upon seeing him in a shirt two sizes too big, shrinking his stature and adding a level of vulnerability, softness even, that none of the other men had seen in motion before, save one.

It isn’t until he turns around with a glass of water that he sees his friends - and remembers the fucking meeting today, too. Gavin, as usual, is the first one to break the silence:

“So, are you shagging Ryan?” he asks with a grin.

“Or some other bear?” Ray adds.

Their meeting is postponed for a friendly firefight that lasts for about twenty minutes (and ruins Michael’s TV and couch).


	29. Gangster Boyfriends II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the previous chapter, how this Michael and Ryan got together.

It was definitely Michael who instigated things because working with gangsters/assassins usually means dealing with people with mysterious pasts who don’t talk much… but after being with Geoff, Gavin, Ray, and Jack he does end up getting fed anecdotes and figuring out why they act a certain way, but Ryan for some reason is a lot harder to pin down. He seems equally prone to kill everyone and make corny jokes and it probably gets really frustrating for Michael because it’s been like two years dude and I still don’t know when your fucking birthday is what the shit. 

So an angry and yet curious fascination with Ryan comes up and the only solution in Michael’s mind is to aggressively become friends with the other man. And he doesn’t even drink so Michael probably attempts to get Ryan to hang out with him by bowling or going to the beach because he doesn’t remember how to hang out in ways that don’t involve smoking or going to a bar.

Ryan mistakenly figures that Michael is courting him - all the one on one time and inquiries about his past and Michael looking at him intensely and saying things like ‘you look nice without the mask you shouldn’t wear it so much’ - and, as with most things in his life, Ryan just rolls with the punches. 

It’s about three months in and they’re at some fucking mini golf place and Ryan’s finally like ‘so did you want to have sex with me ever or,’ which leads to Michael’s confusion, then vehement denial, then Michael dragging Ryan to a bar because he can’t deal with this fucked up plan while sober, which then leads to Ryan taking Michael to his previously unseen place (which is a studio apartment and therefore only has a bed as a spot to sleep on) and they then end up literally sleeping together. 

The next morning, while Michael is leaning over Ryan’s toilet, Ryan admits that he wouldn’t say no to going on an actual date with Michael, and something along the lines of ‘well what the fuck ever i already went through this much trouble’ goes through Michael’s head and he just agrees. Ryan cooks him some eggs, then a few days later they go out to dinner and have a surprisingly good time; Ryan even remembers to take off his mask because Michael likes it. Their dating relationship is actually surprisingly normal; so much in fact that it drops off whenever they’re doing actual crime, so no one else suspects anything until they see Michael in Ryan’s shirt several months later.


	30. Comeplay I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt: "Michael and Ryan both realizing how much they both like it when Ryan cums Michael anywhere like one time when Ryan was fucking Michael he just pulls out and cums all over his back and Michael is just moaning about how hot that is." 
> 
> So, this ask actually spurned a little au where it's just 'Ryan comes on Michael a lot' and they're all going in this chapter, I'll accompany each new scene with the prompt that started it, too.
> 
> Obviously, SUPER NSFW.

It’s definitely not planned the first time it happens; Michael’s on his stomach, moaning and fisting the sheets as Ryan fucks into him from behind, hands curled around his sides as his thrusts gets rushed and sloppy, so close to coming - he shifts a bit, cock slipping out of Michael (who whines from the loss) but instead of readjusting himself, Ryan just strokes his cock once, twice, before coming on Michael’s back. “F-fuck,” he pants out, shivering as he tries to stay upright, staring at Michael’s skin.

Michael raises his head, looking over his shoulder. “Did you just -”

“Yeah. uh… sorry?”

Michael’s quiet for a second, taking in what happened; he can feel Ryan’s come cooling on his skin and it makes him feel dirty and… used. He circles his hips against the mattress, feels how hard he is, how hot he’s suddenly gotten all over - fuck, he liked it. He really fucking liked it.

Ryan gets a surprise when he sees Michael reach under himself to palm his cock. “Fuck that’s hot,” he moans out.

“R-really?” Ryan asks. He can see Michael nodding, fucking into his fist for a minute before he lets a growl rip from his throat, coming so hard against the sheets Ryan can feel the body below him shake.

From then on, sex gets a lot messier for the two of them.

*****************

_"Michael starts not wanting to cum until hes gotten Ryan to cum on him at least twice and it just turns on Ryan even more because he knows Michael is now holding off his own orgasm."_

In the beginning, Michael tries to be covert about it - Ryan fucking him and Michael asking him to come on his stomach, then distracting Ryan from getting him off until Ryan’s hard again, so Michael can stroke him and get his belly covered once more - but after two or three times Ryan finally gets a blushing Michael to admit that he just really,  _really_  wants Ryan’s come on him. 

Of course, Ryan’s not a teenager so it can take some time to get him hard twice in a row, while Michael’s own cock remains untouched, blushing brightly and dripping precome; it makes Ryan ache to look at it. Between that and watching Michael suck him back to hardness, cheeks wet from round one, it’s easy for Ryan to get desperate too. “Fuck, you want it so bad, don’t you?” he murmurs, petting Michael’s curls as he mouths at his cock. “Wanna be my comeslut, right, Michael?” 

“Yes, please Rye, I need it,” Michael pants out, moaning when Ryan finally comes again, all over his face like he’s just a toy for Ryan to use. But Michael can’t stop cursing and saying ‘thank you’; Ryan wipes a thumb across Michael’s chin and the younger man is sucking at it eagerly, looking up adoringly at Ryan. 

Despite being beyond worn out, Ryan wouldn’t dare leave Michael hanging after such a good show. He pushes him onto his back and lets Michael fuck his fist until he comes all over himself, crying out from the relief. And he licks Ryan’s hand clean again, praises Ryan for being so good to him. 

****************

_"Dude Ryan not doing anything for like a whole week like he may jerk off Michael but other than that they don't do anything then by the end of the week Michael is just so desperate for Ryan to cum on him that hes a begging mess when Ryan does start getting off."_

It’s mostly okay for the first five days or so - they probably start on a Sunday - but eventually Michael starts getting antsy; Ryan close to him and touching him but his pants are still on and he can’t  _touch_ like he wants to. 

So when they clock out for the weekend they’re both kind of tense (Michael stupidly had agreed to go out with Gavin and Lindsay too so he’s there at a bar counting the hours until Ryan can come pick him up and take him home). When they get home Michael’s desperate. “Ryan, fuck, I’ve been waiting -”

“ _You’ve_ been waiting?” Ryan jokes, but he takes off his clothes too quickly to be completely unaffected from the week of not coming. “How do you wanna do this?” he asks, settling on the bed.

Michael gets down on his knees and is already palming at Ryan’s cock. “Can you shoot it on my face? Please?” Ryan looks considering but Michael’s persistent; “We can do my stomach next, if you want. P-Please Ryan, I need it.” He starts kissing up Ryan’s shaft and the contact makes the older man shiver; he can’t say no when Michael’s looking up at him like that, pleading to look used. 

Michael’s so desperate, and he’s gotten really good at sucking Ryan’s dick, too, loves kissing up and down the sides of his shaft and moaning as he takes him deep, nearly gets lost in the feeling of that until Ryan groans and pulls his curls. 

Ryan comes a  _lot,_ paints Michael’s pretty face white and the other man smiles dazedly up at Ryan, sticking his tongue out to lick at his lips. Finally he just murmurs, “Can you fuck me?” voice rough and limbs shaky as he gets to his feet, and soon enough Ryan is prepping him, taking ages until his own cock gets hard again - he's still unbelievably pent up, anyway - and Michael is shaking, rutting into the sheets and moaning and gasping at every thrust, says he needs Ryan so badly, that it feels so good. 

Ryan feels himself get up to the edge and pulls out, grabbing at Michael’s hip and roughly turning onto his back just in time for Ryan to come on his stomach - just like they agreed - Michael whimpers from the feeling of warmth on his skin and he slides his fingers through the come before wrapping his wet hand around his aching cock, jerking himself off while looking up at the other man, stuttering out a “Thank you, Rye,” before coming himself.


	31. Regime Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt: "king au! Michael was the king of a small nation that Ryan's kingdom captured. Ryan decides lower the moral of those still rebelling by spread a rumor that Michael is a sex slave. Meanwhile Michael is freaking out because he hates this man who destroyed his kingdom but oh my gosh he's such a nerd and he's been very kind to him all things considered and starts thinking that he wouldn't mind the rumors becoming true. Ryan starts thinking that it might be easier to stop the rebels by marrying him."

Because Michael was king he isn’t a common prisoner of war or whatnot, and is instead made a diplomat and lives in Ryan’s castle (under strict supervision and not actually possessing any power, of course). Between Michael’s people being resistant to the new country they’re apart of - not paying taxes or respecting monuments, admiring Michael and whatnot - Ryan is advised to take Michael down a peg; doing anything physical may cause a revolt, so instead he and his royal advisers work to paint Michael as a whore who has been found in compromising positions with servants and trying to seduce high class members of society. 

Michael is enraged when he finds out his status as ‘castle slut’, but since he’s also rather cunning and doesn’t give a shit about his sovereign dignity if he doesn’t have a place to rule anymore, he milks this rumor for all its worth and starts spreading his own rumors about how great he is in bed, who he slept with, and eventually he’s actually being approached by Lords and Ladies and so on to hear if it’s true that he got Duchess so and so pregnant or if a servant was really being used by Mr. and Mrs. whoever for sex… he ends up sleeping around at his own discretion, and ends up becoming a puppet master for a lot of important people in Ryan’s kingdom, someone who everyone knows and respects out of fear that he’ll tell some dirty secret about them. 

Naturally Ryan is pissed and impressed, and finally Michael begins getting more political power for his people, protecting them from brutality and so on, and becomes a reluctant operational politician Ryan has to use if he’s going to continue taking land for his kingdom. Michael is now in a much more lofty position in Ryan’s kingdom and then there starts to develop a weird, mostly angry sexual tension between him and Ryan (Michael seems to deliberately fuck people in places Ryan will walk in on and that really pisses him off and is he envious? No! Although… Maybe? What are these feelings) 

So, of course, the pair of them begin to have an actual affair. Post-meeting fucks and sneaking into a bedroom late at night or taking long, private walks in the royal garden. Ryan likes calling Michael by cutesy pet names and Michael calls Ryan ‘his little Prince’ to demean him. It works out well for a few months until they actually start getting fond of each other… wanting to spend time with the other outside of ‘work’ or sex stuff… trying to compromise instead of blackmailing each other for every little thing… missing the other when they’re separated - it’s really a mess. Eventually Ryan breaks and says they ought to just get married; they’re enough of a couple and Michael is a shrewd ruler - it’d certainly assure the members of Michael’s former kingdom and create a strong state. Plus, you know, they do actually love each other at this point, even if they try to ignore it. 

So Michael and Ryan get married, and it works out amazingly well. Though now Ryan’s taken to calling Michael ‘queen’ and he doesn’t much like that.


	32. Gangster Boyfriends III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt: "What if in the gta!au, Michael's trying to get with Ryan and one day he's like "What's the date this weekend? Cause that's when I'm going to take you out?" But somehow Ryan misinterprets that and freaks out cause he thinks he's being assassinated."

The problem is that they’ve gotten comfortable, casual, and Michael can just lean back against a wall and say “I’m tired of doing all this. Let’s take you out,” which would only make sense in the context of Michael and Ryan doing a scout mission which was boring as hell and Michael’s attempt to distract himself by wondering what they were gonna do for a date that weekend. 

Maybe Ryan would realize that, except their scout mission has turned into a steak out and it’s been about eight hours on and off and he’s been on his feet and without food for too long; to his addled brain, Michael is plotting his death. 

“Let’s see… what about the pier? Or, nah… somewhere more private where no one’s gonna see us,” Ryan feels his spine tingle in anticipation and he looks at Michael from the corner of his eye. The younger man looks so unconcerned, looking around for their target, that Ryan wonders if this plot is something the whole crew constructed. They were all capable of taking risks but he was the wild card - the one who barely even spoke to them when they weren’t on a job. Until Michael came along and they started going out. Was Michael a honeypot? Was he just trying to get close to Ryan so that he could be taken out easily? Michael knew the address of his apartment and one of his safehouses and, fuck. Fuck. This was what happens when you get comfortable. 

“-So I don’t know, let’s do like, a fuckin’ picnic. Get some fresh air. Ryan? Hey,” Michael nudges the other’s side. 

“What?” Ryan says coldly.

“Wanna do a picnic? We can go to that Jewish deli you like and pick up some sandwiches and drive up to that Chiliad wilderness park or something.” Michael leans over and kisses Ryan’s neck before leaning his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes. “That’d be cool.” Ryan almost feels stupid. 

“Sure,” he says shakily, rubbing at his eyes. 

During the weekend, Ryan keeps waiting for a bullet to enter his skull, and the date they go on leaves him cold and stunted, even when Michael asks what’s wrong, tries to get him to eat. By Monday he realizes he read Michael’s words wrong, but he isn’t able to be totally at ease around the other until the next time they’re on a mission with the whole crew and Michael blocks a bullet headed straight for Ryan with his chest - a fatal shot if he hadn’t been wearing a bullet proof vest - and Ryan realizes that he’s completely fine with things being casual and normal between them.


	33. For Glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt: "I had a dream about gladiators and when I woke up, I thought there should be myan gladiator au. Ryan is the slightly power crazed emperor who gets to decide who dies and who will be the champion. Enter Michael, a street rat who turns out to be a superb fighter. Eventually he's won enough battles to pique Ryan's interest. The emperor wants Michael to be his personal bodyguard/servant boy, but Michael is not too fond of the idea."

I’m sure Ryan’s led more than a few of Michael’s warrior friends to their doom, plus the idea of being a slave to the emperor can’t be too appealing, but Ryan is able to win him over, if reluctantly, through gold and food and a nice, warm bed - especially since Michael’s never had any of those things. 

However, it becomes apparent that Ryan is far from a prideful, rich politician - his wit is as sharp as the blade Michael carries, and he’s put down more rebellions - near and far - with just his words and bribes than what an army could ever do. Michael can’t help but admire him; he may be slightly tyrannical at times, but the devil you know, right? Ryan, for his part, admires Michael’s fearlessness, even in the face of his own ruler. He’s missed having something of an equal to talk to, and they become quite close; walking in the palace gardens together, attending plays and announcements at the amphitheaters, and staying up late to discuss philosophy, politics, life, and sex in Ryan’s chambers. It’s not entirely strange for Michael to fall asleep strewn over Ryan’s bed, even!

So, when Ryan’s hands start wandering one late night, Michael doesn’t make a sound; Ryan’s pretty much his only friend and confidant, and while fraternity is great, he does get… lonely, in that other sense. Even though he’s never been with a man, Ryan’s hands don’t falter and his mouth is warm and sweet. “I’ll take care of you,” he promises, nudging Michael on his back. 

Expecting a compassionate haven from a ruthless ruler is such a foolish mistake, and yet, Michael finds himself making it over and over again each night.


	34. Spanked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the prompt: "Ryan finding out how much Michael loves being spanked from a time they were at home and Michael goes to get something to drink and Ryan jokingly slaps his butt and he just hears Michael give a slight moan when he did and he starts to take advantage of it."

You think you know a person; after all Michael and Ryan had been dating for a while and living together, but he still gets little surprises from Michael. When he smacks Michael’s jean-clad ass to be funny one time he doesn’t expect Michael to do anything but curse at him or shove his shoulder. Instead he stops walking entirely, and his back straightens for a moment before relaxing again as he lets a soft “oh…” fall from his mouth. Michael keeps walking again like it never happened, and Ryan doesn’t do anything until the next night. 

He has Michael on top of him, and as Michael kisses his neck and jaw he’s running his hands down the younger’s back, reaching down to the curve of his ass before pulling a hand away and slapping it back down, hard enough to make an audible smack! And Michael pulls back with a gasp, eyes wide. He doesn’t say anything, so Ryan raises the same hand and brings it down again, just a little harder. 

And Michael shuts his eyes and fucking moans. 

“Want me to hit you again?” Ryan asks, a little breathless himself. Michael stares at him for a moment before wriggling his backside a bit, pressing against Ryan’s palm.

“Yes,” he admits. “Please.” 

Michael clearly has the best surprises, Ryan thinks, hitting the other again and listening to him whimper.


	35. Cats Choose You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: "I just watched the Actual Petting Zoo LP and Ryan talked about his cat(s) and said something about cats not liking him irl (about 17 minutes in the video). And earlier in the video Michael saw a cat for the first time and went crazy about it. So what if the two of them adopted a cat? Like, they don't even mean to do that, they're not really cat people, it just happens. One of them starts feeding a stray cat and it follows him around and then they just have a little kitty."

Ryan is definitely not a cat person… though, he does have a soft spot for animals in general, so when he sees a small orange tabby in the corner of their backyard, he leaves some food and water out on the back deck for it and occasionally watches from the inside of the house to see if the thing will get a drink. As though it can sense him - and doesn’t like him, as most cats do - it doesn’t move.

But the second day, it’s there, napping on the deck in the faint morning sun. Ryan and Michael see it when they go downstairs for breakfast. 

“You just left food out for it?” Michael asked, eyeing the cat through the sliding glass door. “What if, like, a raccoon was there?” 

“It probably would have ate everything and left, then.” Ryan said. “It was just some chicken.”

“It doesn’t look hurt… Or starving,” Michael said. “Maybe it’s lost?” They leave the cat where it is, and on their way to work they drive down a few side streets in their neighborhood, looking around for any lost animal posters - they don’t find any. 

At the office, Jack and Gavin are the most vocal. “That poor cat,” Gavin laments. Jack guessed that it could have recently been abandoned; sometimes, when people move, they release their pets into the wild. “If it looked well groomed and fed, it probably isn’t feral,” Gavin supposed. The pair of them went on talking about cats way longer than Michael or Ryan could bear. And when they got home that evening, there wasn’t a sign of the creature.

“Maybe it just got bored and stayed out for a while,” Michael guessed. 

Two days later, they spot the same cat curled up on the front porch. “Why’d you fucking feed it?” Michael asked, getting out of the car and stomping over to it. The animal didn’t move, only peered up at Michael disinterestedly. “Move, asshole!” He nudged it with his foot, which only prompted the cat to rub its face on Michael’s sneaker. 

“Aw, it likes you,” Ryan said, coming up from behind.

“Stupid cat,” Michael unlocked the door and pushed it open; the cat sniffed at the doorway for a minute, but didn’t go inside. Michael shut the door in its face. That became the routine - sometimes the cat was at the front door, or lounging on the back deck, or it’d be gone for a few days before returning. Ryan left out water and a bit of meat in bowls. Eventually, he assumed, the cat would go off somewhere else or get caught by animal control, or something.

They don’t actually let the cat inside until nearly a month later. It’s raining. Hard. From the living room Ryan swears he hears something besides the storm and the television. When he gets up to check the back door, he sees a soaked orange cat, tapping on the glass. “Michael, the cat’s back.” 

“Again?”

“It wants to come inside, I think.” 

“It’s raining, I bet most animals would want to be inside right now. Why? Are you gonna let it in?” Well, even though Ryan definitely isn’t a cat person, he couldn’t just… leave it there. He puts a few towels down in the kitchen, opens the door and gingerly picks the cat up and puts it on the tile. It’s surprisingly docile, and when 

Ryan tries to dry it off with a towel, the cat just rolls onto its side and closes its eyes. Michael comes into the kitchen and sees Ryan rubbing the cat with a beach towel. 

“Hm, I guess it likes you, too.” When the cat isn’t soaking anymore, the two of them watch it walk around their house, sniffing and rubbing on their furniture. It lets them pet its head, and ends up curling up in the towels by the door. By morning, the weather is nice again, and Ryan lets the cat outside. 

He also buys some actual cat food, too. And a collar - “Just in case something happens to it.”

“Are we gonna name her, too?” Michael asks. They’re sitting out back, and the cat is looking at where Michael’s sitting in his deck chair. “I mean it’s not like she’s our pet or anything.” It meows before jumping up onto Michael’s lap. Ryan raises his eyebrows when Michael smiles and scratches under the cat’s chin. “What?” 

“She?”

“Gavin said girl cats like dudes better. I’m just assuming.” 

“And enjoying her company.” 

“Oh, she likes you too, see?” Michael picks up the cat and reaches over, letting Ryan hesitantly take ‘her’ from him. She meows up at him, but doesn’t up a fuss when he cradles her. He scratches at her ears. “See? Like a baby.”

“We’re not naming her ‘baby.’”

“Babe.”

“That’s a fictional pig’s name. Why not just call her Wilbur?” Ryan and Michael glance at each other.

“Charlotte,” they both say. Then, “Fine.” 

Between them, Charlotte starts to purr.


End file.
